


Sirens Wail

by Breakmybones (CarterReid)



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/M, Hannibal is Hannibal, M/M, Mating, Omega Will Graham, Pining, Someone Help Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-01 02:24:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12146616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarterReid/pseuds/Breakmybones
Summary: Will has been an Omega since his eighteenth birthday.  He's been a Beta since his twenty-third. Finding a mate was never a priority - staying out of the spotlight and keeping his secret was. Enter Hannibal: dark, dangerous and keeping secrets of his own, Will knows what he is from the beginning, but he's more interested in understanding the beast than slaying it.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Be gentle - it's my first outing with Hannibal and Will, and this has been buzzing around my brain for a while...  
> I don't own Hannibal - although I wish I did - so all rights belong to NBC and Thomas Harris
> 
> So I took huge liberties with the Alpha/Omega trope. 
> 
> Here, Betas are the most common of the three dynamics, with Alphas coming a close second (although thoroughbred Alphas are much rarer and are usually only found in the Aristocracy) and Omegas last. Male Omegas are incredibly rare, with only a couple of hundred in the world, and have abilities above and beyond normal female Omegas (they can control their heats, are as fast, strong and agile as an Alpha; not to mention they are considered more beautiful than their female counterparts). This means they are coveted as status symbols.
> 
> Will is an Omega, and has six 'brother' Omegas too: Michael, his closest and oldest friend and the face of the American Omega Hub; Brian, Damien, Ricky (all of whom are mated with pups) and the youngest (unmated) two Levi and Tiger.

There were many things that Will Graham knew. He knew that his life was incredibly complicated, that the so-called gift he had was nothing more than a curse and that should anyone ask, he had no family, friends or anything more than a handful of begrudging acquaintances. His students, should they be questioned, would reply with the same answer: an incredible teacher, an unnerving presence and, of course, an unpleasant sort of man: callous, abrupt and anti-social. He was happy with the later because it kept him from having to interact with too many people. Because the one thing that Will Graham knew, that his begrudging acquaintances and his students did not, was that his Beta status was nothing more than a sham and his true dynamic propelled him from underling to Prince.

Another thing that Will Graham knew was that he would die alone - well as alone as an Omega Prince could be. He knew that finding a mate was the fantasy of his six brothers, not his. It was one of the reasons he had chosen to live life as a Beta, using the tools that nature had provided to skate under the radar, avoiding the rich socialites, scheming Alphas and high-ups all attempting to gain status beyond imagination by mating with a Male Omega. It let him _be_ him - and that was the way he liked it. His oldest friend and closest brother Michael, who had presented with him in the rustic depths of Louisiana what felt like a lifetime ago could understand to an extent, but even his understanding waned after so many years. Yet as the public face of the American Omega Society, and probably the most famous Omega in the world, his life was vastly different to Will's. Will's life was classrooms, projectors and avoiding sideways glances from the administration who were sure he was nothing more than a pet project. Their dislike, and lack of understanding, only doubled after his infamous argument with Jack Crawford regarding his 'Evil Minds Museum'. Of course, he could have revealed himself an Omega and they would have named the instillation whatever Will desired, but that was the last thing the Special Agent wanted. Solitary gave him a peace that being himself: being the famed, and illusive, Omega Prince would not.

To say that he was surprised when said Special Agent Crawford entered his classroom one bright but brisk morning would be an understatement. Immediately he knew something was about to be asked of him that he would neither like, nor want to do. But he listened anyway as the man explained the missing girls and led Will to his victim's board like an obedient dog. It didn't take much to know that the killer Jack sought wouldn't stop - couldn't stop - as long as his prize was still fixed in his mind. The so-called Golden Ticket, Will knew, was the key to saving others. He could save them, and he would, but the interjections of Jack's team did little to aid him in his endeavour. Then Jack called him to his office and the world tipped sideways.  

He knew from the moment he entered the room that Hannibal Lecter was his Alpha. Even after each of his brothers had endured the feeling, Will had still never prescribed to the idea of  _knowing_. It seemed preposterous to look at someone and know that they were  _it_ for you. Like it was some predestined fate or something. To Will, it was a myth. Until, of course, it wasn't.

He was beautiful, captivating, unearthly - there was so many words that he couldn't think straight. Hannibal was all sharp, clean lines and packed muscle hidden under soothing colours and a charming smile. He had been studying the board when Will entered, but his maroon eyes had flickered over, something dark in the depths that Will avoided instantly. Habit, perhaps, but the sudden presence of his _one_ was overwhelming and, if he was honest with himself, frightening. He dropped his things on the floor and sat heavily in the chair, avoiding the stare burning in his side. He couldn't react - no matter how much he wanted to whine and curl up at the man's feet like an obedient submissive. Will had laughed when his brothers had explained the sensation - that their Alphas were the only people that they wanted to please or to yield to. That all their defiance was, in a way, powerless when they first met the one person they would share their lives with. 

"...how many confessions?" _Oh._ Will paused at the sound, body freezing instantly, because his accent was like silk, or velvet, or whatever opulent material was appropriate. It felt like honey and sin against his ears and there was a flush that ran through his body at the noise. 

"Twelve dozen, last time I checked," Jack replied, tone frustrated. "None of them had any details. Until this morning, and then they all had details. Some genius in Duluth PD took a photograph of Elise Nichols's body with his cell phone, shared it with his friends, and then  _Freddie Lounds_ posted it on Tattlecrime.com."

" _Tasteless_ ," Will scowled before he could properly register the words.  There was a slight pause in which he thought the comment had been missed before:

"Do you have trouble with taste?"  The voice, again.  Will bit back his Omegan instincts and swallowed.  

"My thoughts are often not tasty."

"Nor mine. No effective barriers."

"I build forts."

"Associations come quickly," Lecter chuckled. 

"So do forts," Will shot back, eyes raking over his Alpha's face for a moment before dropping back down. 

"Not fond of eye contact, are you?"  There was a challenge in the man's tone and Will rose to it immediately - not one to pass up an opportunity to prove to his mate that he was stronger than he looked. 

"Eyes are distracting. You see too much, you don’t see enough. And it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking, _ummm_ , “Oh, those whites are really white,” or “He must have hepatitis,” or, “Oh, is that a burst vein?” So, yeah, I try to avoid eyes whenever possible," he snarked, before turning away, finally releasing the gaze Hannibal had pinned to him.  "Jack?"

"Yes -"

Hannibal cut him off.  "I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love."

Anger flooded his system for the first time since meeting the man and Will's rage had his top lip curling in a mockery of a snarl. A slight widening of Hannibal's eyes told him he hadn't missed the motion. "Whose profile are you working on?" He turned to Jack. "Whose profile is he  _working on_?"

"I'm sorry, Will. Observing is what we do. I can't shut mine off any more than you can shut yours off."

"Please, don't  _psychoanalyse_ me. You won't like me when I'm psychoanalysed."

"Will," Jack pleaded, finally understanding the depth of his anger. 

"Now," he said, standing abruptly, "if you'll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture on psychoanalysing."  Will stormed from the room, the only thing on his mind: Hannibal - the man with the sharp tongue and maroon eyes. The man whose accent spoke of history and the lines of his body screamed pain and stories filled with suffering. His phone was in his hand, fingers clumsily tripping over the numbers, before he'd even registered fishing it from his bag. Mikey picked up on the third ring.

"Will," he said warmly, voice instantly soothing Will's fraying nerves and the eager voice in the back of his mind telling him to march back into Crawford's office and demand the foreigner mate him there and then.

" _I've found my Alpha Mikey_ " Will gasped in one breath, glancing around to ensure no stray ears had heard him. It was dangerous to talk of such things in the open.

" _What_?" Michael replied after a long and almost disbelieving pause. "Wait, from the beginning. Where? When? Who? - sorry, just...um, I'm, okay. Right - are you okay?" His brother sounded more strung out than Will, but there was an underlying excitement too. Michael had been eager for Will to find his mate for a long time, never truly understanding the decision his brother had made to live his life as a Beta - especially when male Omegas were so rare...and so revered.

"Yeah," Will found himself nodding, "I just. I needed to call you," he said, releasing a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding.

"Of course," Mikey agreed before pausing again. "Are you coming over to the compound? You can tell me all about it...about _him_."

"I have a class first but I'll be over later," Will replied, finally reaching the empty hall and propping his phone between his ear and shoulder so he could begin to prepare the lecture.

"Do you want me to tell the others?"

"Can you resist telling the others?" Will shot back.

"Not really, but I was trying to be polite." Will chuckled softly. "Call me if you need me."

"I will," he promised, ending the call. Michael would help him decipher the thoughts buzzing around his head and the hormones flooding his system. He would help him approach Hannibal as himself, not as a lust-crazed Omega jumped up on mating signals. Hannibal... he wondered if his thoughts would now be forever occupied by the man. He wondered what his Alpha did with his evenings, whether he liked dogs, if he enjoyed fishing or reading or spending lazy nights curled up in front of a fire buried under blankets. He wondered at the kind of lover his Alpha was.  Would he draw out Will's pleasure - make him beg and plead to be knotted - or would he pin him to the nearest flat surface and rut until they were both sore and sated. Will felt his breath quicken slightly at the image playing out beneath his eyelids and a warmth began to pool in his stomach.  He snapped his eyes open and dug his fingernails into his palm to ensure his students wouldn't find anything else to fuel their gossiping.  He knew there were rumours about his sanity - about what really lay behind his wild curls and thick framed glasses.  Whether he was insane or more than just an empathetic person; they all wanted to know. Luckily their confidence dwindled in his presence and the rumours and gossip had never spread into uncomfortable conversations about him fantasising about murder, nor pushing him to display his gift, his _curse,_ like a party trick.  

His musing was broken by the first few students who were beginning to trickle into the classroom. Will pushed his hair from eyes and took a deep breath as his mind turned again to murder, the PowerPoint flickering to life behind him and he let himself _fall_.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be gentle - it's my first outing with Hannibal and Will, and this has been buzzing around my brain for a while...  
> I don't own Hannibal - although I wish I did - so all rights belong to NBC and Thomas Harris
> 
> So I took huge liberties with the Alpha/Omega trope.
> 
> Here, Betas are the most common of the three dynamics, with Alphas coming a close second (although thoroughbred Alphas are much rarer and are usually only found in the Aristocracy) and Omegas last. Male Omegas are incredibly rare, with only a couple of hundred in the world, and have abilities above and beyond normal female Omegas (they can control their heats, are as fast, strong and agile as an Alpha; not to mention they are considered more beautiful than their female counterparts). This means they are coveted as status symbols.
> 
> Will is an Omega, and has six 'brother' Omegas too: Michael, his closest and oldest friend and the face of the American Omega Hub; Brian, Damien, Ricky (all of whom are mated with pups) and the youngest (unmated) two Levi and Tiger.

The journey from Wolf Trap to the Compound was not a particularly long one. Even with his desire to remain unnoticed, it was never wise for an Omega to stray too far from the place built solely to ensure their safety.

The Compound was much like any other estate belonging to someone with money: opulent, spacious and heavily reinforced. Most saw it as a sign of strength, Will saw it as nothing more than a prison with fancy tech. He had spent too many days and nights trapped inside of it with Mikey after they first presented, hormone-fuelled Alphas standing at the gates, calling to them and fighting amongst themselves for the right to court them both. They no doubt thought they were being charming, but in reality that had only frightened the pair and driven Will further into the opinion that anonymity was the only way forward for him.  

The place was set in open countryside, away from the loud noise of the nearby cities but close enough to reinforcements should someone be foolish enough to attack the stronghold - which had only happened twice since they had finished construction. In both cases, the Alpha in question had been inebriated by some drug or another (or several). The main building was, at first glance, a mansion made of glass and light. Three stories high and what could be had been painted in bright white, giving the structure an almost otherworldly feel. High windows let outsiders see into the place, yet only the foyers and unimportant rooms within the building. It stretched almost as long as a football field, and nearly back half as far too, with an open garden, pool and patio area in the heart - not that anyone outside of the Compound could see those features. Not even aerial views were an option given the restricted airspace overhead. Another perk of being an Omega was the overwhelming lengths the Government would go to in order to keep them happy. It would not show America in a positive light should their prize Omegas be discontented with their standard of living. Especially as they were the only country - other than China - to house only 'homegrown' Omegas in one place...probably because they had so many in comparison to others. The other major hubs: two in Europe, three in Asia and two in Oceania, all held an amalgamation of Omegas from multiple countries. Other than the seven in America and the nine stemming from China, it was only Denmark, with four, that could boast so many. Scientists had been attempting to uncover why for years, but they never got any closer. It was, as far as they could tell, random. There was no pattern, no proof of superior breeding, just a random chance, an activation of a gene or two that led to the presentation at either eighteen or twenty-one. Will and Michael had been sure they were both Betas until the morning that Will woke up, sweat-soaked and desperate for something he had never considered before. It was only after a rather embarrassing grope between his thighs did he realise he _hadn't_ wet himself during the night, but had presented. Willing the heat away had taken him more concentration and focus he thought he possessed, but after two days of mindless heat and a  _pleasure-pain_ that left him shaking with need, he found himself  _himself_ again. Mikey, having been there the whole time, bringing water, food and clean towels, had smiled softly before waking up the next day in the same position. The pair had shared looks of surprise before switching roles. His brother spent nearly four days in mindlessness before ending his heat abruptly and declaring loudly that he would never go through a heat alone again. Will had said something witty about Michael not in fact being alone during that heat, which had them both in stitches for nearly twenty minutes before cleaning up and calling the AOS. The American Omega Service had been more or less defunct since the death of the last American Omega nearly thirty five years previously, and so spent their time responding to calls about Omega presentations that nearly always wound up as hoaxes (or as those hoping for attention). The Beta who had been sent to review Will and Michael was an elderly man named Henry, and he almost tripped over his own feet when he caught sight of the pair of them. They were moved into protective services while the Compound was made ready for them and Henry had spent the rest of his life caring for them both. Will always found himself thinking of him whenever he returned home.   

The long driveway, lined with unattractive concrete bollards led down to the only visible entrance that was manned by a steel gate (one that stretched the length of the Compound boundary), two everything-proof booths and security guards - and it loomed before him as he inched closer. He knew that now-a-days, especially with the previous two security threats, that just getting to the front door would require a feat found only in the pages of a movie script. Will's favourite part of the Compound, however, lay beneath the surface. Underneath the impressive glass and steel building were two further floors comprising of relaxation suites, bedrooms and areas for the children. They were the most private and the most impenetrable. Most of the medical facilities on-site were there too, including the incredibly intimidating birthing suites. They were supposed to be warm and welcoming, with one for each of them, personalised with their own flair. Will's however was decidedly lacking in personal touches. He had initially painted it when he was nineteen and idealistic, hoping that his new dynamic might negate the ugly feeling of wrongness inside him and cover up the empathy that had, other than Michael, left him alone. In a fit of anger several years ago, however, after a particularly heated discussion with his brothers who all insisted that he might try looking for a mate, he had torn the place up, pulling pictures from the walls and overturning blankets. No one had entered again - not even Will. The place had been his home for many years but it was, for all intents and purposes, a fortified bunker. And bunkers were more for practicality and for keeping the people inside from the people outside, and he couldn't live like that. Even with his social-issues, living like a prim doll barely allowed out of the box was no way to live at all. At least as a Beta he could experience all that being an Omega denied him. Not to mention it would make sure that his mate, his  _Hannibal_ , would like him because he was  _Will Graham_ , not because he was  _Prince William._

The place was glowing when he finally stopped the car and shifted into neutral at the gate, the bright orange lights welcoming him home. His dogs whined quietly in the back seat, eager to leave the confines of his car. The newest addition, Winston, was peering curiously out the window and Will knew his brothers would have something to say at him collecting yet another stray.

The man on the gate had a familiar look about him, but was clearly still new - not only because Will couldn't recall his name, but also as he asked Will for his pass when he pulled up. Immediately Tony was there, the ever-present Beta on hand to correct his underling. After all, the rules were simple: you never questioned a Male Omega.

"S'all righ' Yaxley," he drawled, "ya don't need t' check 'im." Tony gave Will a wink and opened the gates, ignoring the quizzical look from his inferior. He would no doubt explain just who Will was when he had passed into the safety of the Compound grounds.

"Thanks Tony," Will smiled in reply, putting the car in first.

"Have a good stay, sir," he returned as Will wound up his window and edged the car forward down the drive.

It was unsurprising to find Jake, his personal head of security, waiting on the front steps of the building. Jake had been his friend for years, but had still ground his teeth when Will had first suggested all those years previously to live as a Beta, citing nearly two dozen reasons why it wouldn't be a good idea. Luckily, only one of those issues had come to pass: and Will was sure he was stabbed because his suspect had been eager to flee, not because of his status. "Good evening, Will," Jake greeted as the man shut off the engine, grabbed his bag and let the dogs out of the car. "Good drive?"

"Alright," Will smiled, removing his glasses and meeting the man's gaze. "Traffic was okay." Jake chuckled and gestured inside. He was one of only a handful of Betas who were allowed to address he and his brothers so informally - they having been there from the beginning. It helped, of course, that Jake was actually Jacob, Henry's son. The elderly Beta who had taken he and Mikey under his wing had stemmed from a long line of security personal. Henry's father had served the previous inhabitant of the Compound; now it was Jake's turn.

Jake was an attractive man with cropped, sandy-brown hair, freckles and glossy green eyes. Many of those lucky enough to meet him immediately thought him an Alpha, no doubt on account of his tall, broad frame and impressive muscles (a product of being in the gym nearly four hours a day), but as was custom, all security staff, in fact all staff associated with the AOS, were Betas as they were the least affected by Male Omegas. It would not do well for their own security teams to turn on one another in an attempt to impress their charges after all. Nor would it help newly presented Omegas settle in if those keeping them from sex-charged Alphas tempted by their hormones and status, were more sex-charged Alphas. Not that all Alphas were the same, Will knew, but he had seen his fair share of them loose their minds in his presence or the presence of his brothers. It was unfortunate when trying to hold a civilised conversation.

The dogs charged inside, with only Winston remaining by his side as soon as the doors opened. Their nails clacked loudly on the marble floor and within moments Will could hear the excited shrills of his nieces and nephews as they saw the animals burst through into the living area. Something warm settled inside him - the way he always felt when hearing the laughing children. The darkest parts of him still wished for his own, but he knew his demons would make the child suffer as he did should they be inherited and it was a burden he wouldn't place on any of his children.

"Mikey looked awfully excited to see you," Jake began gently, capturing his attention and shooting him a sideways look. "More so than usual, I would say." Will huffed out a laugh and his friend's supposed subtlety.

"He told you too?" he asked, dragging a hand through his wild curls and rolling his eyes.

"He's told everyone... _sir_ ," Jake grinned, his typical  _devil-may-care_ smirk firmly in place. Will knew that had he truly been a Beta, he and Jake would have no doubt been  _more_ than just very good friends. The man was too lovable, too kind-hearted and too _good_ for _nothing_ to have happened. But now that thought seemed empty and hollow, because even Jake with his smile and gentleness paled in comparison to the darkness in Hannibal's blood-coloured eyes. There was no one else for him now. 

"Of course he has," Will snorted, rounding the corner and into the large, open space living room with high glass ceiling and soft, faux-fur rugs. His dogs were all making themselves comfortable, enjoying the attention from the six children piled around them. None really looked up, too enraptured with the dogs. Emily was the first to spot him.

"Uncle Will!" she cried, launching herself to her feet and running headfirst into his legs. Will laughed good-naturedly and dropped his bag to the floor, reaching down to scoop her up.

"Hello little one," he greeted, tension bleeding from his body almost as soon as she had wound her arms around his neck. The gruff exterior, the sarcasm and the wry self-deprecation was never needed with them. In the eyes of the children, everything was simple, everything was clear. Will felt no pressure, nor expectation, to be anything other than himself; because with the kids, he was more than enough. And had the place not been what it was, Will would have hunkered down with the children many years ago, content never to reemerge. Emily pulled back, her face excitable and holding a hint of the mischief he loved so much. 

"Daddy says you've found your Alpha," she announced, her five year old eyes bright and shiny. 

"Your Daddy," Will began, glancing up as his brother entered the room, "is a tattletale."  She giggled, mock gasping and glancing over her shoulder as her father strode towards them. Will placed her on the ground as Michael enveloped him in a hug.

"Of course I am," he grinned into Will's neck before pulling away. "There are no secrets here," he announced. Michael O'Dare was, Will thought, the most beautiful of all them. Copper-brown hair with big, honey coloured doe eyes and a symmetrical face made roguish by the smattering of stubble across his chin. He was tall, lean and looked more dashing in a suit than Will thought possible for a human being. Although he remembered when Mikey was fourteen, awkward and pimpled, hiding behind glasses too big for him and spending his evenings with Will in his shed taking apart boat motors. Puberty and presentation had done wonders for him. But his confidence and love of being what he was, was what truly made him stunning. 

"Nuh-uh," Will agreed, eyes dropping to Emily, "not with this one spilling all the beans."  Emily giggled as he hand instinctively wrapped around her father's leg. She had Michael's hair, but Adam's eyes - the bright blue of Mikey's Alpha striking against her fair skin.

"And _who_ is this?" Mikey asked, jerking his head towards the floor. 

"Oh, uh, _Winston_ ," Will replied, hand tangling in the soft hair on the dog's head. Winston offered a lick of his hand in reply, waiting for some reassurance from his new owner that the strangers were friends.  Will fussed him again. 

"So I see we found more than just our Alpha, huh?" Michael laughed. "Come on, you look like you haven't eaten since you called me."

"I had coffee," he retorted, cheeks reddening slightly. Jake snorted by his side, clearly unimpressed, and the expression that flitted across his brother's face spoke of the same frustration. "It's been a busy day,  _okay_?" He shouldered his bag and dutifully waved at the rest of the children who seemed much happier at seeing the dogs than he. Only Emily accompanied them, slipping her hand into his and her other into Michael's. "Where are the rest of your brood, anyway?"

Mikey rolled his eyes. "Amelia is in her room, studying; Beatrice is out with a friend; Cameron and Dylan are playing video games with Adam and this one's with us," he replied, smiling down at his youngest who was pulling faces at Winston who seemed, if Will sensed correctly, less than impressed by the whole thing.

"And everyone else?"

"Waiting to ambush you," Mikey replied with a wink and ignoring the choked laugh of Jake's that came from behind. "Levi and Tiger are particularly eager to grill you." There was a pause. "Brian's already run a background check on him."  Will stumbled slightly, turning to his brother, half affronted and half impressed.

"Did I even give you his name?"

"Didn't take much. You know our brother - he can hack into anything, and CCTV's apparently easy and, well, once he has that, facial recognition now-a-days is rather impressive don't you think?" There was another silence. "So he's a Doctor."

"Mikey," Will warned, throwing a glance to his oldest friend that clearly spoke volumes because the man shrugged and lapsed into silence as they moved deeper into the bowels of the house and out into the most informal of the dining rooms where the rest of his brothers were already waiting.

"Hey, Will; what-s'up bruv?" Brian greeted almost as soon as they walked through the door and offering an arm for a half-hug that Will had never really understood. Then again his brother had grown up in Los Angeles and frankly, what they did there was beyond his understanding. 

"Hey Bri," Will returned, releasing his hold on Emily to properly greet everyone. Damien and Ricky quickly followed, the latter nursing his swollen stomach gingerly.  A raised eyebrow from Will had the man sighing.  

"He's as strong as his Alpha," the black-haired man explained, tired. "And he likes to play football with my bladder."  Will choked out a laugh at that. Levi and Tiger were last. As the youngest of the group, they had taken to the roles of baby brothers instantly and often looked to him or Mikey for advice and help. They also liked to cause the most mischief which was often expressed through a series of prank wars. The kids of course loved it, but on the occasion Will had stayed in the Compound during one of the events, he had found himself with dyed hair, covered in glitter or locked in his bathroom. It had been funny until he had been trapped for five hours before they let him out - then it was decidedly unfunny.

"Well look who finally got up and mated," Levi said by way of greeting, embracing him tightly.  

"I'm not mated, Levi," Will snorted, ignoring the writhing in his stomach at the thought. The idea of not wearing Hannibal's bite on his neck was almost inconceivable now he had met his Alpha. He had to, _had to_ , bond with the man, he was sure. Anything less than was an injustice, the eager part of his brain supplied. Will shut it down - he would like to keep some of his self-control in the face of this, he thought. Although he was sure his eagerness would become less _prevalent_ after the initial hormones had settled. Currently, he knew his mind was a cauldron of sex, lust and a desperate urge to go into heat: a dangerous stew of chemicals pushing him towards mating, and also exposure. Nothing would say 'Omega', like breaking down in Jack's office and begging the foreigner to knot him over the desk. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought and he bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood. A soft chuckle from over his shoulder told him Michael knew  _exactly_ what he was thinking about.  

"Not yet," Levi corrected with a grin that made something warm spread through Will's system. _Soon,_ the eager part of his mind agreed, humming contentedly at the notion.

"Alright, time for the important bit," Tiger interjected. "He's hot, right?"  The room erupted into jeers that had Will turn an unflattering shade of red. He had barely managed not to jerk off at the thought of his mate, now they wanted him to _describe_ him, in all his beauty.  His cheeks were clearly burning crimson because Jake took that as his cue to move. 

"Will, can I take that to your room?" he asked, smiling gently as Will handed over his bag. "Come on Emily, let's settle Uncle Will into his room."  

"Okay," the little girl grinned, taking the outstretched hand of the Beta guard.

"Thank you Jake," Mikey called after him before turning back to his brother. "So he's hot, right?"

"Don't you all know?" Will groused, sitting heavily and ignoring the pooling heat in his groin, "I mean you've already stalked him."

" _I_ have," Brian nodded, perching on the edge of the table, blue eyes pinned on Will, "but these idiots haven't." There was a pause. " _So_."

"Stunning," Will admitted quietly, scrubbing his face with his hand nervously and letting himself remember that moment fully. "Totally out of my league. European if his accent is anything to go by."  There were a few whoops. "But dark, definitely dangerous..." Will hesitated, thinking of his eyes: those deep, blood-coloured, swirling eyes.  "Probably a killer."  That sobered them all up for a second as they realised just what _finding-your-Alpha-meant_.

"How bad?" Ricky asked, hand fluttering over his stomach. "As in Tom bad?"  Rick's Alpha had used to run an underground fighting ring that broadcast nation-wide. It was brutal, bloody and barbaric and Tom had gotten rich off it all - and profits only rose when he introduced the new rules: where only one would leave the ring alive. "Or as in Adam bad?"  Adam, Michael's mate, had worked freelance as an assassin. There was rarely a job he didn't take and had been credited for just under thirty kills in two years. In fact, all of their Alpha's were, in a way, bad. James - Damien's mate - had been a drug kingpin and had owned the streets he had lived on as a child. He had started, and ended, gang-wars and no one, not even James himself, knew how many people had died at his hands. Dom - Brian's mate - was the only one of their Alphas to have done time. He had beaten a man to death with a socket wrench in a moment of anger. His temper was more fiery than any of the other Alphas combined. It was a little known fact about Male Omegas that they tended to mate the strongest and the most brutal of all Alphas. It was thought to have stemmed from pre-civilisation, where the chiefs who kept their people alive were those who raped, pillaged and butchered other clans. After all, few dared challenge a monster, and Male Omegas were the ultimate prize - they almost invited challengers. They said it was a innate mechanism to ensure their safety and the safety of their pups. Will knew Hannibal was no different. He was as monstrous as his brothers' Alphas - he just didn't know how much of a monster the man was, yet.

"Not sure," Will admitted, voice low. "But _bad_. I can feel it. It's like this sensation in my stomach. I know that he's more dangerous than I realise. A wolf in sheep's clothing, perhaps. He's restrained, calm, but it's like he's holding himself together. The way he moves, the way he talks, it's like he's playing chess with you and he knows he's already won. But it also feels like one wrong move and his person suit is going to tear and that teaming blackness beneath is going to come pouring out. I'm not sure  _what_ he is, but I am sure that he'd sooner kill me than wait for me to explain that I'd never turn him in."  He drew in a long breath, the warmth turning back into the writhing sensation that made him feel sick.  "It frightens me, actually."

"His darkness?" Damien asked, leaning forward.

"No," Will shook his head, hand absentmindedly reaching down to scratch Winston behind the ears, "that I'm going to love him despite that darkness."  


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Hannibal - although I wish I did - so all rights belong to NBC and Thomas Harris
> 
> Shorter chapter - partly because I wrote this instead of sleeping #priorities. Also, in Chapter One I used the dialogue from Hannibal and Will's first meeting because I love that first exchange, however, I'm AU'ing it from there. Partly because this is an AU and partly because I want some more freedom to explore my version of the characters a little. Also, I don't want to be done for copyright. So, yeah, there's that. Much love and kisses.

He woke to knocking on the door. The numerous aspirin he had swallowed did little to quell the rising headache pressing against his skull like a stag sharpening its antlers on a tree and the stains on the bedspread told him he had sweat again last night. For a moment he thought it might be after a rather pleasant dream involving a certain Doctor, but he knew it was ludicrous to hope too strongly. The killer he and Jack sought had invaded his life like none had previously and Will hated that. Hated that his mind was open to all the perverted, twisted thoughts of those he hunted. The truly depraved had found a home in the dark parts of his skull and his stomach turned every time he acknowledged it, especially as they had begun to cosy up to the parts that already lived within him. After denying those urges for so long, the grim reaper had appeared dressed in the form of Jack Crawford and flayed his skin, pealing back his defence with little more than a handful of missing girls and some antler velvet. And now there was another; a copy-cat. A copy-cat whose condescending mockery of the love that his killer had felt for his victims was evident in the violent, grotesque way he had torn her lungs from her chest. The killer was a teaming mass of barely suppressed blackness; the man who tucked Elise Nichols into bed was fighting himself as much as he was fighting the fear of being caught. Will didn't know whether to scream or cry at having to juggle them both. 

Another knock had him stumbling like a newborn foal to the door of his motel and wrenching it open, convinced that one of his brothers, Jack or perhaps even Jake, would be the source of the noise. But at the sight of his Alpha, holding out a Tupperware container like a peace-offering had his customary _fuck-off_ lodge itself in the back of his throat. He ached to open the door further but he did the opposite, blocking the entrance even as the man narrowed his eyes at the action.

"You brought me food?" The question was out of Will's mouth before he even registered it as a thought. Although immediately his mind was jumping between ideas like 'provider' and 'caring', and all the other typical stereotypes that Alphas were synonymous with, as though Omegas - male or female - were incapable of getting their own food. For a split second Will thought that perhaps the man had worked out just what he was and that the Alpha saw through his Beta facade, however he pushed the thoughts aside when it became apparent that the man was nothing more than curious about him. _A new toy_ , something snide said in the back of his brain. It was unfortunately accurate, he was sure, but that was something he didn't want to explore in too much depth just yet. It took Will a moment of staring at the man blearily to realise that he was speaking, and managed to tune back in to hear the words _protein scramble_ before a rather heavy silence followed. Apparently that was his cue to speak, but he stayed silent.   

"May I come in?" Hannibal pressed, sensing Will wasn't going to do anything proactive... or polite.

"I'm not dressed."  Will's Omega was screaming at him by this point, asking why, just why, he decided that being confrontational with his Alpha was the best way forward. Why he hadn't smiled gently and dipped his head, carefully flashing his neck as a way to entice the man in front of him.  Why, rather than proceed as all his brothers had: with typical Omegan softness, he had chosen to project the gruff part of his dynamic. The part that would tear out the heart of a challenging Omega, a threatening Alpha or anyone who might stray too close to his family. Why, rather than open the door and be civilised like a normal person, was Will challenging Hannibal like a dumb, stubborn-headed, low-tier Alpha. None of his brothers had won over their mates in such a manner, so why would his be any different? Even his rational mind rebuked the blatant rudeness - although that was somewhat surprising, it not bothering him previously. It seemed his Alpha's quirks were beginning to permeate his skull - seeping in like a thick smoke. He should probably be worried about that, but with Hannibal so close, Will found himself uncaring. 

"I'd noticed," Hannibal returned, something almost  _smug_ in his eyes, although his gaze never drifted from Will's face. If Will was honest, they never really strayed from his eyes: was his Alpha proving a point about eye contact or simply avoiding looking at that _special_ place on his neck? "However, at the risk of sounding demanding, might I ask that you put something else on? Normally, those who dine with me to have more than just their undergarments on."

"Funny," Will shot back, deadpan, finally relinquishing his hold on the door and making room for the man, "mine tend to be nude."  He stepped away, but only after seeing something dark flicker in Hannibal's eyes and his lips pull into a ghost of a frown.   _Jealous streak_ , he thought instantly and there was something rather pleasant about that - knowing that the man would defend what he considered _his_ almost as fiercely as Will would. Hannibal slipped through the door and drew the curtains slightly as Will pulled on a pair of sweatpants and made sure he smelt of nothing more than a Beta. A wave of embarrassment swept over him when he noticed that his sheets were uncovered and therefore the Doctor could see his nightmares written in the dark sweat patches staining them. He tried to make his actions subtle but Will knew that Hannibal had seen - and that he had concluded correctly about - the state of his bed. He was too mortified at his problems being so crassly laid out to find pleasure in the thought that his Alpha was in his den. A makeshift, temporary motel den, of course, but a den nevertheless. 

"Here," Hannibal said, offering the food with a flourish and providing him with a distraction from the flush creeping over his cheeks.

"Thanks," Will returned, stabbing at it with a fork and little finesse. Another reason he was better as a Beta - he had little patience for the high-society flamboyance and etiquette concerning food. As far as he was concerned, it went in one way and came out one way - why make a show out of it? Something told him that his counterpart did not share the same sentiments if the herbs littering his breakfast and the napkin the man had folded on his lap was anything to go by.   _Uh,_ why couldn't he have a  _normal_ psychopath as a mate? Although, Will thought, he'd happily trade normal for the cheekbones sitting across from him. Their children would have - 

He stopped instantly, mind screeching to a halt like a train with newly oiled brakes.  _Children_? Oh,  _no_. He'd sworn to himself after the demons he had inherited with his empathy that he wouldn't even think like that.  _You didn't have an Alpha then_ , that ugly part of him said but he shot it down with a grind of his teeth. 

"Are you alright, Will?" Hannibal asked, returning him to the room. 

"What?" he replied. He suddenly became aware that his food had frozen halfway to his mouth which was, unfortunately for him, half open. The muscles in his arms had all locked and his back was rigid. To the outside eye it must look like he was having some sort of stroke, violently stopping and barely breathing, however Hannibal only looked intrigued: as though he would climb inside Will's head to see exactly what had caused the reaction if he could. 

"Are you alright?" he repeated, gracefully placing the cutlery to one side and leaning ever-so-slightly forwards. 

"Yeah," Will ground out, forcing a nod and shovelling the food into his mouth. "This is great by the way," he added, glancing up only long enough to see Hannibal's pride flicker across his face and his mouth curl into a smile. He tilted his head in response to Will's compliment and continued with his own meal. The sudden urge to engage him in conversation proved too much. "You believe me, right?" Will spluttered, brain barely catching up with the words that were tumbling from his lips. "About the girl, in the field," he continued when the Alpha looked quizzically at him.

"Yes," he drawled, "your theory that they were murdered by different killers."

"They _were_ ," Will insisted, pouring a drink from the flask the European had brought. "Our killer, he _loves_ the girls. This killer, he thinks they're pigs, that they're nothing. It's obvious. So obvious."

"But Jack is less than convinced?"

"It's Jack," Will ground out, irritation at all their previous disagreements welling up inside him. "He likes things to be simple."  He took a swig from his glass and almost moaned aloud. Instead he managed to turn it into a satisfied hum and tip his head towards the Doctor. Another curling smile in reply had that oh-so-familiar warmth returning to pool in his stomach.

"Yet often things seldom are. Jack may cling to the illusion of simplicity, but even this killer - the one who so dearly loves his victims - is complicated. A sensitive psychopath, I think our friend Jack used, was it not?"  

"Yeah," Will replied, trailing off, eyes shifting to gaze out of the window. "We're going to catch this guy, I know it, but the copy-cat, the killer from the field...I doubt we will. Jack won't like that."

"Jack, with respect, cannot control everything. His dislike of something does not change the truth of it. If you believe this killer is out of your grasp, then dear Jack would do well to listen."

Will turned to look at the man sat across from him. It was the first time since meeting Hannibal that he felt almost comfortable. It was clear, even without the knowledge regarding his brothers Alphas, that the man was dangerous and _different_. Although all Thoroughbreds tended to be. And that was exactly what Hannibal was. He might not flaunt it like others did but the signs were there. The solid muscles packed beneath his suits, the quick mind hidden by that charming exterior, the slightly too-frequent flair of his nostrils that told Will the man was breathing in _too much_ \- a burden that thoroughbred Alphas tended to wear with reasonable grace. Heightened senses were never pleasant - Will was forced to endure them during his heat and everything seemed too loud, too sharp, too bright. He could only shiver in horror at the onslaught the Doctor suffered daily. There was the little manner of his scent, too, that spoke volumes about the level of his status. It tended to be Omega scents that were the most complex: part themselves, part their mood, partly their mate and pups should they have bonded too. Betas had weak, almost indistinguishable scents; Alphas were almost always musky with hints of citrus - tangy and sharp. Hannibal was different. There was musk, of course, but instead of the sharpness, there was a woodsy smell: like damp soil or wet leaves. The man smelt like the place Will loved most in the world. He smelt like the air before a rainstorm; thick, rolling, tumultuous, heavy, but always, always welcoming. He had another layer, too; something clean and crisp, like the first frost of the year when breathing in too sharply _burned_. That intensity was no doubt only for Will - he was the man's Omega after all - but also because Hannibal was  _above_ other Alphas. He was faster, stronger, more refined, a product of an aristocratic bloodline, Will was sure. The profiler wondered how many had simpered at that smell. How many women, or men, had thrown themselves at Hannibal's feet. How many had claimed to be  _his_? How many had pawed at his impeccable suits like fumbling virgins in the hope of being taken to bed by the Thoroughbred with those mesmerising eyes? How many, Will didn't want to know. If he knew, he'd be compelled to kill each and every one of them. There could be only him now, after all. It was his right, as a Male Omega, to kill any challengers and he would  _revel_ in that even if the logical, human parts of his brain turned away at the violence. He may not have liked the feral nature of his dynamic but he would yield to it if he had to; if it would ensure him the affections of his Alpha. It was quickly becoming apparent to him that even as the mating hormones dimmed and that the initial flood of chemicals retreated back to normal levels, the desperation that clawed at his skull to please his Alpha remained. He was still himself, he knew that much and if he really wanted to he would be able to resist the siren call that was his mate, but he didn't want to. Hannibal Lecter would always be there, would always be his, would always call to Will, whether he knew he did or not. He knew that the darkness he had spent so long fighting and that had haunted him since he understood that imagining killing people was _wrong_ , would be happily released upon the world if it would give him the paisley wearing European opposite him.

He took in a steadying breath, aware that he had been staring more than slightly-too-long. "I need to ask something of you, Doctor Lecter," he finally murmured, the words feeling cumbersome in his mouth.

"Of course," he began but Will waved him off. 

"You don't know what I'm going to ask," he began, tone insistent. He drew in a breath because he wanted Hannibal to understand how _big_ this was for him. He was finally asking the one thing he thought he never would. "This killer, the one from the field. Something tells me he's not done yet; something tells me that despite us not being able to tell, he's going to be dropping bodies and soon. Jack, he's going to want to catch the bastard and I'm going to try and help. But something tells me that if it comes down to it, Jack will throw me under the bus just for a shot of getting him."  He met his Alpha's gaze, ready. "I need to ask that you don't let that happen."  

There was clear curiosity in the man's eyes but it was eclipsed completely by surprise. Of all the requests he had predicted, this had not been one. He had not been prepared for Will to ask for help - especially after what Jack had no doubt said about him. But Will knew that if anyone was to save him from himself, and from the darkening influences closing in around him, it was Doctor Hannibal- _fucking-_ Lecter. "I know it's a lot to ask, but I hope I can ask this. Jack has a way of getting what he wants and well, here, I'm all alone..." he inhaled sharply again, the absence of his brothers' influences suddenly weighing on him. "I don't know you very well Doctor -"

"You will," Hannibal promised solemnly. Will looked up surprised. The composure had returned to the Doctor's face, but his eyes still spoke volumes of his true emotions: confusion, intrigue, excitement and some, dare he say, anger? Although towards himself for the request, or Jack for putting him in such a position, Will couldn't say. 

"So -" Will began, slowly, _trustingly_.

"So, I will," the man responded simply, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, "I will, dear Will."  


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be gentle - this is my first outing with Hannibal and Will 
> 
> I don't own Hannibal - although I wish I did - so all rights belong to NBC and Thomas Harris
> 
> In case it wasn't obvious, I took the Alpha/Omega trope and ran away with it... to Florence. (Hopefully you guys like)
> 
> Much love.

Looking at Abigail Hobbs made him feel sick.

The thick, viscous blood sliding over and between his fingers made a sudden reappearance as soon as he laid eyes upon her pale and lifeless form. She looked more dead than alive, her grey complexion and white lips foreign to the steady  _blip-blip_ of the machine beside her. He hated every second of being in the hospital room, but he hated the pitying looks of Alana and Jack more, who regarded him as though he were some fragile thing ready to shatter into a thousand jagged pieces. It would anger him more if he didn't feel exactly that: delicate. He had never felt more Omegan, more in need of an Alpha, than in the days immediately succeeding the death of Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Will had thought that his natural instinct might snap into place and that love he felt for Emily and the rest of his brothers' offspring would emerge, but there was nothing. He felt some form of responsibility, admittedly – he _had_ killed her father after all – but that was eclipsed by his desire to run far away from her. Not even the lingering memory of Garrett Jacob Hobbs pressing at the base of his skull could compel him to stay by her side. All that Will saw was a child tainted by her father – a child tainted by _him_. It was every fear he could possibly imagine all rolled into one, comatose package. So he did what he always did best, he hid. He threw himself into teaching and, just as he predicted, with the death of one killer came the emergence of another, and another, and Jack – oh predictable Jack – had been edging him towards each of them after barely a week of recovery. Will didn't know whether to be happy or angry that the man put such little thought into his mental state after pulling the trigger so many times. Not even the half-hearted attempt at him to be rubber-stamped had worked in Will's eyes. It had been a thrown question towards a man he barely knew about a man he wanted, _needed_ , in the field.

His only saving grace in Will's eyes, was Hannibal. Hannibal who had been so far true to his word, remaining by Will’s side and sending Jack stern, unsubtle looks when he pushed too hard. Will had never been more grateful for the man, nor more afraid of him. He often spoke of Abigail and of her recovery when all Will wanted to do was forget about her. It was cruel of him to demand the girl leave his mind, but he thought he would never be sane until she did. He might have succeeded in his denial, too, had it not been for Freddie Lounds.

He had been successful in keeping his brothers from the recent developments and luckily his lifestyle meant that Jake and other members of his security team did not follow him, nor know of his every movement, but a single article from the flame-haired woman who claimed to be a journalist, a  _journalist_ rather than a tabloid pap - it was laughable, was enough to end that freedom. Freddie, who had contaminated crime scenes, set killers on his tail, dragged his name through the mud and pissed Jack off to no end was given a slap on the wrist. Will? - one call from Michael and Jake was moving into his house, three handguns strapped to his body and the warning that should he try anything, he would be sedated and dragged back to the Compound, declared a 'risk to himself' and kept there until the danger had passed. The Omega had been less than friendly with his closest brother, practically hissing down the phone and hanging up a total of three times before he accepted that Micheal was worried about him and wasn't intentionally being difficult. It wasn't everyday, Mikey said, that Will killed a cannibal, was stalked by a lunatic and targeted by a tabloid _pig_ ; or targeted by a "mother-fucking ginger", as Levi had so eloquently put it. The latter comment had been shouted out in the background during one of their conversations. Levi had been loitering and the muffled cry had sent Will into a reluctant laugh that had spiralled into a half-hysterical, half-sobbing mess that lasted nearly an hour. Jake had sat, respectfully, letting him blubber down the phone to his brother, appearing only with hot chocolate at random intervals.

Luckily though, Jake had not followed him to and from work, being content to protect Will at his most vulnerable. It was odd having another person in his space after so many years in the little house with just himself and his ever-growing pack of strays. It was even stranger knowing that Jake only rested while he was at work and spent the evenings while Will fitfully slept strolling around the property, its boundaries or sitting in the ratty armchair facing the only road that led to his house. It must have been lonely work, but Jake was a professional and he cared deeply about Will - not only as his Prince but as his friend. That meant long hours of silence and company limited to Will's four legged companions was more than acceptable if it kept him safe. Eventually, Will knew, his brother would relax and let Jake return to the Compound, but everyone knew it would be a couple of weeks before anyone was able to broach the subject, and some time after that before it actually happened. Sometimes, Will wondered if letting Mikey be the face of the AOS and therefore the 'man-in-charge-of-everything' had been as wise as he first thought. He  _was_ the first Omega to present in thirty-five years, after all (something he teased his brother about occasionally), and therefore Jake should have to listen to him over Michael. Although it wouldn't work that way. Will's lifestyle choice, while not judged, demonstrated that when it came to successfully fulfilling the needs of Male Omegas, Will was _less_ capable than his mated, previously-pupped, healthy, sober, _happy_  brother. Less capable than a brother who didn't dream of blood and violence and rage. A brother who didn't have to claw at himself to scramble out of the dark places that Jack, and his own mind, sent him. 

And there was another thing: Jack. The more Will engaged with the man, the more he saw him as another problem that had been steadily growing. While he knew what he was walking into in working for Crawford, the constant bombardment from the man was grinding. His brothers and of course Jake had been less than impressed at the way the man spoke to him. While Alana, beautiful, Omega Alana with her rosy cheeks, soft skin and silky hair, got the gentle, humane approach, Will received gruff anger, shouting and insistent calls at two in the morning. Will didn't know if it was because he was a man, she a woman, or he a Beta, she an Omega, but the clear favouritism, which had previously made him smile, now picked at his family's patience and therefore ground on his. The insistence had seen calls that would demand he be at crime scenes far too far away to be close. Jake had snarled the third time it happened, wrenching the phone from his charge's hand, turning him around and putting him back beneath the covers. After another two hours of sleep, and eight missed calls from his boss, Will knew he couldn't avoid the scene anymore. The tirade he received when he finally did emerge, however, was bad enough to stop him from letting Jake put him back to bed again.

Although he grew sick of them, the rant that followed a rather heated discussion with Freddie Lounds was worth it after seeing his Alpha barely holding onto laughter as Jack read out the words: "It's not very smart to piss off a guy who thinks about killing people for a living" in a tone barely hiding his fury. In his defence, he had been forced by Jack to go and see the newly awakened Abigail Hobbs. And after having spent so long trying to avoid her, his emotions were hanging precariously, teetering on the edge of hysteria. Will hadn't been happy to see Hannibal be blamed for his outburst, but the faith his Alpha expressed in the next breath made him feel fuzzy inside and had more than made up for the visit to Abigail.

They had wanted him to take her home, but he knew he couldn't. Not even with his Alpha by his side, his reassuring and steady presence, could he return to that place and make it back without more than just a remnant of the Minnesota Shrike. No, Garrett Jacob Hobbs would crawl out of his grave and burrow himself into his skull if he let him. It had only been his Alpha and the surge of hormones that had stopped it from becoming _worse._ With his levels almost back to normal, he couldn't risk returning from that dark place with something else. So he made Alana take the girl. Hannibal was going to accompany them and Will tried not to let his stomach turn at that revelation: he saw how Alana _looked_ at his Alpha. That coy, beneath the lashes peek that screamed Omega, and screamed an innocence Will very much doubted she actually had. Alana knew how to play the game, that was sure. However, if his instincts were right, nothing had happened between his mate and Alana _before_ him and it was unlikely to happen with Abigail along for the ride. Alana may have been ready to climb Hannibal like a tree but Will's Alpha was a  _gentleman_. He had felt as relaxed as he could about the whole affair, until the phone call several days later to view yet another body made his head spin because it was him: it was his  _copy-cat_. In Minnesota. Was he _following him_? Or - and Hannibal was there. His Alpha, in danger, because of him? He had never packed so quickly or driven so recklessly in an attempt to be there in case his mate needed him. He felt helpless.

And Jack, he had made Will feel small.

Not even Hannibal's interjections, his warnings, were heard. Will fought back, of course; he wouldn't be made to feel small before his Alpha, but the man steam-rolled right over him and no Beta would ever deny an Alpha when they were posturing and as angry as Jack was in the Hobbs cabin. By the time he finally returned to his haven in Wolf Trap, Jake waiting on the porch for him, he felt beaten and broken, unsure of which way to turn and more than ready to crawl into his den and not emerge for a week.

The Beta guard offered him a whiskey as he dropped his overnight bag on the wooden planks beneath his feet. "You look like shit... _sir_." There was no charm in his voice, only concern. Gone was the roguish, boyish grin, in its place a soldier willing to step in front of a bullet for Will. 

"I feel like it," Will returned.

"You looked scared as hell when you left yesterday. I almost went with you...or didn't let you go at all," he confessed.

"The copy-cat killed again," Will returned, perching against the railing and turning his face to look out at the open fields surrounding them.

"You feared for your Alpha," Jake said neutrally, swigging his own drink.

"I've never felt panic like it," Will muttered before he paused, hesitant at whether he should continue his train of thought. "Until, of course, I considered the worst of possibilities."

"And that would be..." Jake prompted, leaning forward slightly.

"That Hannibal _is_ the copy-cat," Will returned, meeting the gaze pinned to his side. "We know he's probably a killer," he continued at the stunned expression of his friend. 

"Killer, yes," Jake all but hissed, "but someone who _mutilates_. Who -" he cut himself off. "The copy-cat took Cassie Boyle's lungs while she was still living. If he did what Hobbs did..." Another pause. "Are you  _seriously_ suggesting that your Alpha is a  _cannibal_?" 

Will felt incredibly guilty all of a sudden. "No," he returned sharply, "I mean, I don't know, Jake. I don't. I mean, I don't really know him, do I? I don't -" He was breathing too much, he knew. It was shallow and insufficient and Jake knew he was on the verge of a breakdown because within an instant his hand was rubbing soothing circles on his back, repeating the motion over and over again until Will felt himself calm. It was nowhere close to being gentled, but a wave of something close to guilt washed over him because those moments were for he and his Alpha - or between he and his brothers. Jake stopped the motion but remained where he was.

"Perhaps, sir, you might get to know your Alpha better? It might help you feel better about things - and more confident in your conclusions," he suggested gently. "You may find his kills are in his past, or the rolling darkness you see is actually his potential to kill? All Alphas are different after all and well..."

"Mine's a Thoroughbred," Will muttered quietly. Jake nodded, retreating to a respectable distance. 

"Exactly," he agreed, "they're even more complex."

"Adam is a Thoroughbred," Will shot back but the quirk of Jake's lips told him he knew  _exactly_ what was coming next. 

"You know he isn't really," the guard rebuked, "he may have been born to a Thoroughbred father, but his mother was a dirt-poor Beta from Boston and his father's  _mistress_. It's not quite the same as your Doctor."

"I know," Will huffed.

"Do some research, talk to him maybe; you'll feel better about everything. And even if you don't, at least you have a better understanding of the man." 

"Yeah," Will agreed half-heartedly. "But  _how_? I'm not exactly well versed in this  _wooing_ thing." Jake had the audacity to laugh. 

"Sir, with respect, you're funny, unique and crazy beautiful, you don't have to woo anyone," he chuckled. Will felt his face heat, but there was nothing of the reaction he felt with Hannibal. The European really had ruined him for anyone else.

"I'm also weird, uncouth and a virgin," Will shot back, enjoying how it was Jake's turn to blush. He didn't know why the man acted as though he didn't know: all Male Omegas were virgins before their Alphas because they had no real interest in sex prior to meeting their mates - other than their heats, should they choose to experience them, that was. A quirk of biology, scientists called it. For Will, it was just another thing to try and understand. Sexual puberty didn't tend to hit people when they were in their thirties and being on the verge of arousal _all-the-fucking-time_ was painfully embarrassing, and inconvenient. He was never more glad that you _couldn't_ go blind than in the weeks since meeting Hannibal. "Anyway," he continued before Jake could reply, "I'm tired." He wanted sleep, and to put out of his mind the series of bone-weary days that had been the past week. Jake nodded once, tipping his glass and his head in Will's direction before settling back down on the porch. On look-out once again.

Will picked up his bag and swung it over his shoulder before heading inside, grinning madly as the wet noses of his dogs pushed up against his thighs and hands the instant he walked through the door. Oh, he had missed his pack. Their happy faces, wagging tails and lolling tongues made his worries feel lighter than air. He made sure that he fussed each one in turn before heading into his bedroom, stripping down, and crawling beneath the duvet, sleep taking him almost instantly. 

His dreams were filled with black feathers coated in tar and stags rearing their magnificent heads in a challenge before turning and vanishing into the woods. They seemed to turn to smoke before his eyes, but there was an overwhelming urge to catch them, even in their half-spectral forms. He longed to chase after them and lose himself amongst the tall trees that loomed before him. The longing spread within him, spreading outwards from his stomach, up into his chest and down his arms, making them tingle the way they sometimes did when he slept awkwardly on them. The smell of an impending rainstorm was on the air and Will knew, he knew that -

A hand on his shoulder woke him.

Jake stood concerned, brow furrowed. He was wearing a coat, boots and one of Will's woollen hats. It took the Omega a minute to realise they were outside. Very far outside. 

"I was walking the perimeter," Jake explained, licking his lips nervously, clearly weighing his words and not quite sure _how_ to say what he was trying to. "You were asleep." Will glanced down. His feet were bare and bloody and he was in his t-shirt and boxers. Jake had shrugged out of his coat and had bundled him up inside it before he even knew he was shivering. 

"Don't tell Mikey," Will said, finally having found his voice. 

"I -"

" **Don't _._** **Tell. Mikey.** " There was clearly something in his tone because Jake nodded, albeit reluctantly and he was clearly unhappy about it. But ever the loyal solider, he would obey. He turned the profiler around and started walking them back to the house, knowing full well that trying to carry the curly haired man, or even offer, would not be greeted favourably. 

"What were you dreaming about?" Jake asked gently as they finally reached the porch, where Will's dogs were waiting nervously. Will only shrugged in reply. "Okay," the man breathed, changing his approach, "then where were you going?"

Will chucked drily, climbing up the steps and trying to hide the wince that crossed his face as something dug into the soft flesh of his foot. "To Hannibal of course."


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be gentle - this is my first outing with Hannibal and Will  
> I don't own Hannibal - although I wish I did - so all rights go to NBC and Thomas Harris
> 
> I should probably sleep at some point but I'm having way too much fun writing this to stop just yet. Hope you guys are loving reading it as much as I am writing it. Thanks for all the Kudos and Comments so far, you guys rock. Much love.

When he woke again, he was safe, clean, in own bed and he was alone. He could hear Jake bumbling around in the kitchen, no doubt fixing breakfast for them both, but there was the pulling sensation in his stomach that he had felt the previous night that was too insistent to ignore. He slipped from between the warm sheets and showered quickly, dressing even quicker. Jake was clearly surprised to see him up but that quickly faded to concern when he took in his apparel. 

"Heading out?" he asked. 

"Uh-huh," Will nodded. "I'm goin' see Hannibal," he confessed after a moment, knowing that after the previous evening, his friend would be more inclined to follow him than give him privacy. 

"Right," Jake replied, unsure but knowing nothing he said would convince Will to return to the Compound. He forced a smile. "Call me if you need me," he said.

Will felt a wave of gratitude and flashed what Mikey called his 'Omega smile' at the man. His breath stuttered slightly but other than that, his face didn't change. "Thanks Jake," he said before turning on his heel and jogging down to his car before the man could try and accompany him. He was halfway down the road before he realised that he had never actually been to Hannibal's house and calling Jack for an address was out-of-the-question. Not only would that open a can of worms he did not want to discuss, it would make him look even crazier than he already did. Beverley Katz, Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller would find out, no doubt, and then the teasing would begin. The  _Beta-freak_ pining for the Thoroughbred Alpha. No, he would not call Crawford. Hannibal's office it was, then. All he knew was that he had to see the man. He didn't quite understand why but he was being pulled towards the man as though the forces of nature themselves were at work. Well, he thought wryly, they were in a way.

The drive was short and for Will couldn't have gone quickly enough. The intensity had only increased the closer he got and it was only when the door to Hannibal's office was before him that his confidence faltered. What would he  _say_? He was turning up unannounced - rude - to Hannibal's place of work - ruder - and potentially barging in on a patient.  _Damn_ , he hadn't thought it through. He was turning on his heel and leaving when the door swung open and Hannibal was guiding a man through the space. He was short, bearded and had the beginnings of a pot-belly. If the hazy musk surrounding him was anything to go by, he was an Alpha, albeit an incredibly submissive one. Were it not for the smell, Will would have wagered Beta without doubt. 

"Will," Hannibal greeted, clearly surprised but there was something pleasant in his tone. Almost as though he had been thinking of him and suddenly, he was there. In truth, that may have been _exactly_ what had happened. Omegas were always very well-tuned to their Alphas and Will was no exception it seemed. The Doctor tore his eyes from Will and back to the man beside him. "Franklyn, I will see you at the same time next week," he said. It was a clear dismissal but the man's eyes narrowed and he didn't move. 

"Who are you?" he asked. "Are you a patient as well?" Will was taken aback by the blunt question and just as he was preparing to say something in reply, his Alpha stepped in.

"Franklyn, this is a dear friend of mine, Will. Now, the same time next week?" His tone was slightly less friendly but Will barely noticed, too distracted by the warm feeling spreading through him at the words _dear friend of mine_. 

"I thought you weren't friends with patients," Franklyn shot back stubbornly. Hannibal's patience was fraying, it was clear.

"Oh no, I'm not a patient," Will replied, lacing his tone with as much innuendo as he could. Both Alphas blushed, although Hannibal hid his well. Franklyn muttered something and _finally_ scuttled off. Will snorted once he was out of ear-shot before outright laughing at the European's face. He looked torn between amusement and annoyance, although it seemed the former was winning the battle. "I know, I know," he grinned, "I shouldn't tease."

"Come in Will," Hannibal replied, resigned, and Will snorted again, feeling more free than he had in a while. The office was as immaculate as it always was but Will had the urge to mark the room with his scent, his real scent, and that was a new sensation. How much more would he endure? How many new sensations hammering away at his control? How long would his heart slam against the uneven bone of his ribs before it finally burst out and laid itself bare at Hannibal's immaculate shoes.

"Sorry," Will began, sobering slightly, "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"Of course not," the man returned, "I have a relatively empty day. Two of my appointments cancelled, would you believe?"

"Huh."

"How can I help, dear Will?" Hannibal asked, taking a seat in his usual chair. Will dropped his coat on the side table and all but threw himself down with a sigh. That sudden feeling of being in over his head had returned and as the need to be near his Alpha had dimmed, he found himself thinking clearly. And with a clear mind came the overwhelming realisation that he had no _real_ reason for being in the man's office. _Come on Graham_ , he thought, racking his brain,  _think of something, of anything_.

"I've started sleepwalking," he blurted finally, glancing over to quickly to gauge Hannibal's reaction. There was more concern than curiosity. _Progress_ , the small voice in the back of his mind said.

"I presume this troubles you, given you are informing me?"

"Well I don't think wandering down the road in my pants, unconscious, is something to be celebrated, do you?" he snapped. 

"Outside?" Hannibal repeated, body tensing slightly and a subtle, almost unconscious roll of his shoulders making his facade ripple as though it were a still pond that Will had just cast a stone at. "You are wandering around outside?"

"Yeah," Will nodded, standing, submitting to the need to burn off his nervous energy. "I don't think it's happened before. I woke up on the road last night. It might be stress..."

"Jack has been unusually...difficult recently," Hannibal offered, clearly struggling with his words. It was interesting, to see him wrestle with himself. But for the first time there was something that Will could clearly see that warmed his heart: fear. Fear of Will injuring himself, or being hurt by other means. Hannibal cared about him in some way, that was for sure. The extent of that affection was still unknown, but it was there.

"Difficult? He's been riding me like a two dollar whore," Will shot back, remembering the line Tiger had yelled at him down the phone several days previously. A choked splutter had him turn. Hannibal was trying very hard to be proper and affronted at the image, but the curl of his lips spoke too much of his amusement for Will to be discouraged. He barked out a laugh at the Doctor's expense. "You can laugh, you know," he smiled, shaking his head. "I know all you Thoroughbreds are supposed to have stiff upper-lips, but that bullshit isn't for me," he continued, only realising his mistake when the unfiltered surprise flickered across Hannibal's face. Will schooled his features, biting his tongue until he could taste blood, in an attempt to ease the growing panic inside him. He wanted Hannibal to like _Will_ , not the Omega.

"I didn't know you were aware of my status," the man admitted softly, accent dropping into something honeyed and warm that would be fuelling Will's libido for the foreseeable future.

Will shrugged and laughed hollowly. "Empathy disorder, remember?"

There was a pregnant pause before Hannibal spoke again. "You truly are a remarkable Beta, Will."

"Thanks," he huffed, happy that he had averted having to divulge the truth of how he had really discovered that fact.

"Would you join me for dinner this evening?" Hannibal continued and Will almost tripped over air. He ground to a halt, pacing around the room long forgotten. A slow, languid smile stole over his features.

"Sure," he agreed, trying not to break out into a no doubt creepy grin. "When'd you want me?" He immediately regretted the wording, although the slight widening of Hannibal's eyes showed amusement, which pacified him slightly.

"Seven?" the Doctor asked.

"Sounds good," Will nodded, glancing over as a knock reverberated on the wood. "Perfect timing, eh Doctor?" he said, picking up his coat, his Omega sated somewhat.

"Indeed," Hannibal agreed, although judging from the hole he was burning into the door, the patient who had dared disturb them would see that it was far from a welcome interruption. He stood, guiding Will to the door. "Seven," he repeated, as though Will might have forgotten. "I'll send you the address."

"Seven," Will parroted as the man opened the door for him. He left the waiting room as Hannibal welcomed his next patient but could feel the Doctor's eyes on him.

He could wait until seven. He could wait -  

 _He couldn't wait until seven_.

He was a ball of nervous energy and even after filling in Jake, Mikey and his dogs (when he took them for not one, but two walks) on the upcoming meeting/session/get-together/ **date?** /dinner he was still wringing his hands in an attempt to kill time. He had picked what to wear thrice and dismissed each choice mere minutes after selecting it. He had contemplated pulling out some of his best suits: the fancy, designer ones tailored specifically for him when he had been a more active member of the Omega community. But given that he was a Beta with seven dogs, a house in the middle of nowhere and a penchant for smelling like fish, arriving at Hannibal's house wearing a suit that cost more than his annual salary might hint that something else was going on in his life. Jake had been little help, alternating between laughing at his flailing efforts and chuckling to Michael down the phone. Will was sure he had even begun to snap at his own reflection before it was finally time to leave. 

He had settled on his smartest (non-Omega) trousers and a simple shirt with the shoes he tended to wear for work. He had tried taming his curls but had given up. He would have shaved too, but he always looked incredibly Omegan without his stubble, so didn't. He pushed his glasses on as he grabbed his jacket and all but ran out the house, avoiding his dogs in the hope of turning up hair-free. Jake had laughed him out of the door and watched him back out of the drive, waving at him like a maiden waving away her eloping friend.

The tinny instructions from his phone on where to turn did little to dull his rising nerves which had been more than fraught for the entire day. But beneath it all, he couldn't stop smiling, because this was what having an Alpha was supposed to be like: dinner dates and worrying about what to wear. Not murder scenes and distressed surrogate daughters that frightened the living hell out of him. He felt so suddenly mundane, it was refreshing.

Hannibal's house was as opulent as his office. Big, beautiful windows, marble-style pillars flanking the front door and light - so much light - it reminded Will of his homes: his little house lit like a boat on a sea of fog, and the Compound with its glass and orange glow. _We could make a home here,_ said a quiet voice deep in his subconscious and for the first time, he welcomed it. Because he could see it. He and Hannibal, the dogs and, dare he even think it, a little one or two. Maybe a girl who looked like Will with soft curls but had her father's charm and quick mind - and his eyes of course. He hoped that should they ever have children, those swirling maroon eyes were there. The urge to build a home, a family, with Hannibal had grown stronger and stronger until the man had caught himself rubbing his abdomen tenderly when he wasn't thinking. The idea of carrying his Alpha's pups, of watching a part of him and a part of Hannibal fused together and grow, was addictive. He knew why his brothers were so entranced with the idea of large families, of pups - their Alpha's pups. The notion was an itch and Will wanted nothing more than to scratch. But that was still a way off. They hadn't bonded: his neck was still unmarked and his virginity intact, and until **both** of those things changed, he would remain decidedly un-pregnant.  

Will shut off the engine and clambered out of the car, pulling the bottle of wine he had grabbed earlier, with him. It wasn't cheap by any means, but it was in no way a bottle that would show he could afford a lot more than he let on. His exact instructions to the Compound had been: "the cheapest bottle we've got that will go with a pretentious meal, Mikey, and don't let Levi, Tiger or Brian choose it, they only drink swill." He clambered up to the front door and contemplated waiting - he was four minutes early after all - but his eagerness won out and he knocked sharply. His Alpha was there within a moment.

"Will," he smiled warmly, stepping out of the way to let the man through. The Omega stepped through into the hallway and Hannibal shut the door behind him.

"Wine," Will said, thrusting the bottle in his direction, his manners and eloquence running away at the precise moment he needed them most. The Doctor looked amused more than he seemed offended and the profiler was glad that the Doctor saw his appalling lack of etiquette as charming rather than abhorrent.

"An excellent year," he enthused. "This will go very well with the duck. I did not know you were so well versed in the art of wine, Will," he chuckled.

"That'd be the wine store man," Will lied, blushing at the praise and forcing a shrug as he hung his coat on the rack and followed Hannibal into the house. As soon as they entered the kitchen, he barked out a laugh. The European turned to him, curious. "I should have guessed, after that first breakfast, that you were a secret-cooking-nerd," he explained, gesturing to the incredible room.

"Ah," Hannibal smiled, "yes. I am indeed a, how did you put it, cooking-nerd. Although it was never a secret. I often hold dinner for my peers; although such events indulge more in the spectacle of cooking than the simple enjoyment of flavours. I have kept our meal much simpler this time," he chuckled softly, "I had thought you might appreciate that, my dear Will." And oh, if Hannibal kept saying his name like that, he wasn't going to last the conversation, let alone the dinner, or the evening. He would be begging the man to mate him across his kitchen counter; to knot him in the heart of his home; to claim him in his sacred pantheon. "Our meal is almost ready," he continued, "I'll bring it in momentarily." He gestured to the dining room. Will hesitated, but his Alpha only pressed a glass of wine into his hand and smiled kindly. He ducked his head, the curls falling in his eyes, and wandered through into the dining room. More deep, rich colours and heavy drapery. The man might just be richer than Will.

The table was sat for two, however, contrary to Will's expectation, Hannibal had not set a place at the head of the table, but rather two directly opposite each other: _equals_ , one part thought;  _nowhere to hide_ , thought the other. If they weren't looking at each other, there was a chance they would be playing unintentional footsie with the way Will fidgeted so often. And while pressing his leg against the solid warmth of Hannibal's thigh was more appealing than any food the man could possible serve, if Will was to make it through the evening without soaking his underwear, trousers and the very chair he sat on with slick, then he would have to try and keep a semblance of composure in the face of his mate.

He had barely sat down before the Doctor returned with something flamboyant, presenting it with a flourish and describing the components in a language Will didn't know, so was lost to just what it was.

And oh god, his mate could cook. The appetiser, the entree and even the desert, were all exquisite. By the time the main course, a roasted duck breast with other fancy things to it that Will didn't catch, was served, he had forgone propriety and was practically moaning around every mouthful. Although Hannibal's reactions did little to deter him. Swinging from smug, self-indulgent pride to something almost lustful, he felt no urge to damper down his enthusiasm. The best part, however, was that not once had they spoken about murder, Jack, Abigail or anything case-related. They chatted about themselves: their hobbies, loves, pasts. The more they spoke, the more Will was certain it was a date. He learned about the numerous languages Hannibal spoke: a product of his travels as a young man and the passions he had of cooking, music and fine arts. He discovered he was a member of the Baltimore Philharmonic Orchestra's board of directors and loved the Opera. He even expressed interest in taking Will, which made the younger man blush. But he also learned about some of his mate's darkness too: his family's fate and, of course, his sister Mischa. "She died too young, when I was just a boy," was all his mate offered and Will didn't press, but he could see the impact, the toll, that such an event had taken on Hannibal. In turn, he spoke of his life in Louisiana, fixing boat motors and the drunken half-abuse of his father who had gone fishing on his boat after a long night in the bar when he was seventeen and never returned. He told him about life as a homicide detective and how he was stabbed by a suspect. He spoke vaguely of his mother, but he knew too little to really open up to his Alpha about her. The easy conversation saw them move from the dining room into one of the living rooms, lounging on the settees with wine glasses in hand and smiling over a story the Doctor told about his time in medical school.

"It's no wonder you're such a popular member of the elite," Will chuckled, the glass in his hand emboldening him slightly, "with stories like that."

"I can assure you that I have not shared that with my friends in the Baltimore upper classes," he smiled sharply, soaking up every compliment Will paid him, "it's far too scandalous for their ears. It would hurt their delicate sensibilities," he added.

"So I'm rough enough for it," Will shot back, teasing. Hannibal looked startled and the Omega only laughed at the face. "I'm joking, Hannibal," he soothed.

And it was then, when the man half-rolled his eyes, swilled his glass gently and took a delicate sip of the wine, tongue coming out to wet his lips that Will realised he was madly, stupidly, insanely in love with the Alpha. It broke over him like a wave - an unyielding tsunami of emotion that closed his throat and made his heart trip in his chest, free-falling into his stomach to live amongst the butterflies. The world and all it's ugliness had narrowed down to that curving mouth, those emotive eyes and the line of his throat. He felt like crying; he felt like screaming. Will couldn't work out where one emotion began and the next ended: it was a roundabout of blurred and half-thought thoughts. But he loved him. His heart ached with it and he felt like he might burst. He could hear the blood in his veins, the spoken inhales and exhales of breath from beside him, the shift of the expensive suit on the sofa beneath. Tears began to prick his eyes and his hair stood erect on his arms. It was in the comfort of his Alpha's home that he knew.

And it was then that the Omega put his glass down, waited for Hannibal to do the same, and proceeded to kiss him.

It took a few seconds for the man to kiss him back, the man going rigid in shock, but within moments he was responding. His tongue ran against the seam of Will's lips, pushing insistently to be given access and Will, delirious at the taste, let him in - and oh, that was what heaven felt like. It was too forceful, too much teeth clacking together, but the urgent need, the fervour, was intoxicating. The large, warm hands cupped his face, fingers tight and unforgiving but they felt good on his skin. They tugged at each other, both trying to make the other move and both determined not to separate long enough for that to happen. Then Hannibal was pushing him back and something akin to a _whine_ lodged itself in Will's throat, making him whimper and gasp instead. He dragged his hands up to tangle in the man's hair, tugging at the silky strands in a desperate attempt to remain grounded - to keep hold of the only solid thing in a room suddenly turning over and over around him - while Hannibal's dropped to Will's hips, pinning him beneath him. There was a rumble building in Hannibal's chest and Will became so, so aware that the man was hard against his thigh. He was desperately trying to keep up with the pace of Hannibal's kiss, to give as much as he got, but the battle for dominance had been long won and Will was being pressed into the cushions beneath pounds of solid muscle and eager Alpha. The fingertips digging into the soft flesh of his hips were bruising, he was sure, and a bone-deep ache had started beneath the place where they were connected. The evidence would be there for days and Will's Omega cried in ecstasy at being marked by his other half. His glasses were askew and he was panting, hips half jerking at he too grew hard but unable to go anywhere because of the unyielding pressure of Hannibal's hands keeping him in place. Suddenly, the Alpha was pushing himself between Will's thighs, the younger man moving instantly to accommodate his mate and wrapping his limbs around the Doctor's hips. They collided again and the angle was _perfect_ , because their groins were aligned and Will _keened_ at the pressure: almost too forceful but enough to drive him to the edge of insanity. It was clear then that while Hannibal might not understand what he was, the primal part of his Alpha did. And that primal part knew exactly what they were to each other, too, and that primal part was, if the diamond hard length pressed against his own was any indication, more than ready to claim what was his. The Doctor's scent was expanding, pushing outwards and saturating the room in an unconscious display of territory, to keep other Alphas away from his home and too keep them away from _Will_. Woodland and rainstorms and _thunder_ ; Will was gone, so, so gone on this man and was rapidly losing control of his own scent. It would be now, in this place, where they were practically rutting against each other like mindless animals, that he would finally bond with the European. He felt Hannibal bite at his lip and he knew as soon as he could taste his blood he would know what he was, he would know that Will was - 

Will's was -

And Hannibal pulled away - 

Fast.

Shot back, actually. Tearing himself from Will's grasp so quickly that it took him a moment to understand the Doctor was no longer there. Will was too dazed to properly react. He could see the murderous, thunderous face of his Alpha, made even more startling by the red of his cheeks, the unkempt nature of his hair and the obvious strain in his slightly damp trousers. But as Will's hearing returned, the blood no longer racing faster than his heart, and he no longer needed to blink so many times, he realised his phone was ringing. He sat forward, blinking stupidly when he realised the ruffled Alpha was nowhere in sight. _What the hell?_ he thought.  _Where had his Alpha gone?_

Will turned his attention to the offender that had broken their moment. It was Mikey and a wave of anger rose in him before he realised that something must have happened - his brother knew how important the night was for him. "What?" he said by way of greeting. 

"I'm so sorry, Will," Michael replied, breathlessly, "I didn't mean to -"

"What?" Will repeated, still too incoherent to put sentences together. 

"Ricky's gone into labour," he explained and Will knew. 

"I'll be there within the hour," he replied, hanging up. He'd have to go, Male Omegas needed family - all family - around them in birth. It wasn't Ricky's fault, nor anyone fault's really, it was just the worse possible timing.

Hannibal was suddenly back in the room.  

He seemed to be in bad shape, stood stiffly at a respectable distance, a look in his eyes that spoke of his concern: personal concern, that was, and silent fury. He was barely holding himself together, it was clear, and the darkness Will had seen all that time ago was slamming itself against his person suit with a fervour that made him cold. Hannibal did not understand, it was clear, what had just happened and why his Alpha had lost such control in Will’s presence. And he didn't look like he was in the right frame of mind for Will to explain it too him. 

Will stood clumsily, shoving his phone in his pocket and ignoring the forgotten wine on the table... as well as the tightness in his groin. There was something he wanted to say but Hannibal beat him too it. “You're leaving," he stated, tone cold.

"I have to – ” he jerked his head towards the door, keeping his voice small and quiet, trying not to read too much into the sudden ice in his Alpha's voice. 

“Good. It is late,” the Alpha replied, deadpan. “I will walk you out.” He ushered Will down the hall and waited while the man struggled into his coat. “Thank you for a pleasant evening,” Hannibal said once they had reached the front door and suddenly Will felt sick, because he felt like just another dinner guest. Just someone else who happened to turn up to this palace of homes for Hannibal’s amusement and that he was nothing more than an inconvenience to ensure status, popularity and maintain appearances. Kissing the man, while sending Will to Nirvana, had been a mistake, it seemed.

“Goodnight Hannibal,” Will whispered, eyes downcast as he all but fled from the house, eyelashes suddenly wet and the corner of his eyes stinging slightly as something hard and ugly rose within him.

“Goodnight William,” the man returned, shutting the door firmly, not waiting to see Will reach his car.

It took the Omega only a few moments after leaving the Alpha’s drive to realise it was the first time Hannibal hadn’t called him Will.


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Hannibal - although I wish I did - so all rights go to NBC and Thomas Harris
> 
> Hannibal's an asshole, Jack's worse and I really want to give Will Graham a hug...
> 
> So I had this dream of Will getting really drunk after Hannibal loses his shit about their kiss and starts dancing that Grease Lightning dance to 'Misery' by Maroon 5... I woke up and had to write to the song, so this chapter is a little more angsty. Also, what the hell - I have weird dreams.
> 
> Also: a little bit of past attempted Non-Con/Rape here, but nothing happens and the guys gets his head kicked in for trying, but I'm warning in-case of triggers...

"This baby better be the fucking messiah," Will had snapped in lieu of a civilised greeting as he tore into the Compound like a whirlwind. His bad mood had sent everyone scattering and the man's temper had continued to worsen until Ricky finally gave a last push and welcomed his pup into the world. It was only then that a ghost of a smile cross Will's lips. It quickly vanished though when Michael went to inform Tom and the Alpha had edged into the room, eyes transfixed on his mate and new-born son, because that reaction - the stunned awe and clear admiration shining on his features - was what Will wanted more than anything from Hannibal.

Levi and Tiger, who had been fighting sleep, finally let themselves succumb on the armchairs they had been occupying in the birthing suite and Brian, eager to see his mate, was leaning out of the door behind Tom speaking with Dom. It was an unusual - especially in the modern day - for Male Omegas to need the Alpha standing guard while his brothers helped him through the birth in a dimly lit, but warm and comfortable, den, but that was the way it had to be. Tom wouldn't be left alone with his mate and pup, or even allowed to touch either of them, until the hormones had settled and Ricky felt safe without his brothers. They were a pack, and given the history of female Omegas banding together to drown their new-born pups while their Alphas went for food, it was an instinct that made sense. Had Will stayed away, his brother would have tried to delay the birth and then struggled no end to deliver.  

They'd be in the birthing suite for three days. Normally Will wouldn't have minded, but given his confused, angry and heartbroken state, he wanted nothing more than to drown himself in whiskey and avoid speaking to anyone. Let alone his six nosy-as-fuck brothers who were all itching to ask how his night had gone. 

Michael lasted twenty-six hours after Will had arrived to finally pull him to the side. Admittedly, it was probably Will's fault. He had showered quickly and then paused in front of the mirror, noticing the purpling spread of bruising across his hips. The dark spots, almost blue in some lights, were fingertips, it was obvious, and there was a fading imprint of Hannibal's entire hand on his left hip. Will had dropped the towel covering them and admired the force his Alpha held beneath such poise and paisley suits, wondering how marked he might be after a mating. He was gently tracing them when Mickey had walked in, looking as tired as they all felt. His mouth had dropped open and they had stared at each other for the first few seconds before Will finally managed to react, picking the towel up off the floor and wrapping it high enough to obscure the numerous markings from view. 

" _Will_ ," Mickey spluttered, surging forward. Immediately his hand went to his brother's face, turning his head to expose his neck...which was still bare. His confidence wavered a little then. 

"I don't want to talk about it," Will retorted, pulling out his Michael's grasp. 

"He  _forced_ you?" the man snarled and immediately Will knew the train of thought his brother had been on.

"No, no,  _Jesus no_ , I instigated it," the profiler was waving his hands in an attempt to pacify the situation, before a fury and a need to defend Hannibal rose within him. "He's _nothing_ like Rafa, Mikey." Michael fell silent, partly at the tone his brother had used, but also because he was stunned by Will's use of the name - he had never willingly used it after Rafa's incarceration. To be honest, he had never used it after the _incident_ , choosing instead to refer to the man only as  _him_ or _the Italian Alpha_ , or sticking to the traditional  _you-know-who_. The first time Levi had heard that in passing, he had honestly asked if they were talking about Voldemort and Will had turned, looked him in the eyes and replied 'I wish'.

Rafa, or Raphael Elias Nucci, was a black stain on the history of their family. The Alpha had broken Will into a hundred, fragile pieces that had never really managed to fit themselves back together again. The Italian bastard that had been the main reason he left the life of luxury behind. Will was young, unsure of himself and entranced by the foreigner. It was only he and Michael back then and his brother had just mated, leaving Will uncharacteristically eager to find his own mate. Enter Rafa, with his sultry smile, taste of the good life and never-ending knowledge about the world Will longed to see. They had travelled together, the four of them, for nearly six weeks, driving around Europe like two pairs of gap-year students. Will didn't care that the man was older than him, that he was sophisticated while Will was still fresh from the boatyards of Louisiana. He was sure Rafa was his in that naive, boyish sort of way. The way teenagers who claimed to know love ranted at their parents that they _don't-understand-how-much-I-love_ whoever their latest love was. It was reckless and foolish. But he was twenty two and what person doesn't make mistakes at twenty two? But even with the naivety, Will couldn't really understand why he had never felt the urge to move their relationship on. He did now, of course, and after the  _incident_. It was because Rafa hadn't been his Alpha. They had held hands, Rafa had held him close beneath blankets as the looked out at the stars, swapped stories between sweet, chaste kisses that made Will's toes curl, but nothing more. After a few weeks, it was clear that Rafa had wanted more, but Will didn't budge, pulling away or shaking his head each time and denying the older man. It was in Italy where the Alpha finally lost all patience. Tired with his 'frigid nature', he'd attempted to take what he thought he deserved for being Will's anchor - he'd tried to take what he thought was  _his_ right to. Will could never forget the long fingers curling around his neck as they pinned him to the floor of the bedroom they were sharing, other hand scrabbling at his own belt buckle. Mikey and Adam, having disappeared for a late night stroll, had returned just in time. The roar from his brother's Alpha had rattled the glass in the windows and Rafa was hurled away, nails ripping the skin from Will's neck as he went. Adam had always been faster than Rafa and was at the peak of his physical fitness, not to mention made more protective by the bonding hormones after claiming Mikey three months previously. In the end, there wasn't much of a fight. The Italian had ended up with broken bones, a bloodied and disfigured face and was barely holding onto consciousness. Will, though, was traumatised. The skin around his scent glands where the mark of his Alpha would one day go, had been torn, bruised and bloodied. His face and arms were littered with scratches and there was a nasty, bloody wound on his meat of his shoulder: Rafa's first attempt at a mating mark. Later Will had wondered what he thought to achieve, given that bonds couldn't be forced upon Male Omegas. It was just another thing that made them different. They returned home the next day, Rafa in chains and Will unwilling to speak. He was mute for eight weeks: long enough for Rafa to be charged with the 'attempted violation and force bonding of an Omega Prince', sentenced to life imprisonment in a maximum security facility, and for the whole thing to be covered up by the establishment, the government and his brother's new friends in the Justice Department. Not a word made it through to the public. Mikey had never wanted Will to leave his side, but eventually, the man had packed a bag, masked his scent and disappeared like smoke on the wind, leaving only a note informing them he'd let them know he was safe soon. He called a few days later and confessed to his brother that he wanted to live as a Beta. It had been the night before his birthday and Mikey, thinking it best, had agreed. He'd been alone for the first time: then Damien had presented and suddenly he was the big brother again.

Looking at Will now, covering up his Alpha's marks, he couldn't help but think of that moment. But his brother was stronger than he had been in Italy and, it seemed, was finally moving past the event that had started his facade. Mikey wasn't sure whether he was thrilled at the prospect of Will moving beyond the trauma or angry that it had taken a conversation like the one they were currently having to do so. The marks spelled out violence, not love, and they made his skin tighten on his bones.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, both trying to sense what the other would say.

"He's not Rafa, Mikey," the curly-haired man continued again, voice suddenly small and vulnerable, "he's different." Will paused again. "I mean, he freaked out a little after you interrupted our kiss."

"That was just a kiss?" he gasped. Will blushed and Mikey composed himself. "I mean, they always do," he soothed, "it's not -"

"He doesn't  _know_ ," Will snapped, clearly feeling defensive or embarrassed, but the man couldn't tell which. "Jesus, he couldn't kiss me without turning cold, aloof and angry; it wasn't exactly prime time to announce I was his Omega."  _Cold?_ Nothing like Rafa indeed, Michael thought. But  _cold?_

There was a period of long silence.

Michael was stunned, Will could see, and had no idea how to respond. It was unprecedented, such a reaction. Mikey, Brian, Damien and Ricky had all had reasonably easy transitions into being mated. Adam had fallen hard for Michael at first meeting, as had Dom - although he had fought it for a few weeks first - and Tom and James had only hesitated because they had thought their mates were in on some police sting operation to catch them in the act. And when the Omegas found the right moment, they had revealed themselves as their mates and they had all lived happily ever after. It had been days, maybe a few weeks, and at longest (Tom and Ricky) a month before the couples bonded, bite-mark and all. Will had already surpassed that by a couple of weeks with Hannibal. They were supposed to be in each other's pockets, lost without the other at this point, not Will pining from afar and Hannibal doing everything he could to avoid the emotions he clearly felt for the profiler.

It took what could have been minutes but felt like longer - as though time itself was suspended in that clean, blue tiled bathroom - before Michael gathered himself together, inhaled deeply and finally replied. 

"So you kissed your mate and he kissed you back," there was a nod, "but said mate then panicked about kissing you, fled, only to return to see you leave and therefore leave him without an explanation as to why his internal Alpha reacted so...enthusiastically to you. So he's no doubt confused about all of this, angry at losing control, frustrated because there was little explanation, horny as hell because, well, they always are, probably contemplating murder because our Alpha's are killers and overwhelmed because he's trying to cope with too many emotions."  Will nodded slowly in reply and his brother breathed out a ghost of a laugh that was more stunned than humoured. There was little to find funny in the situation, after all. "This is a clusterfuck, Will," he muttered, shaking his head. 

"Tell me about it," he agreed, turning away.

"Do you want -"

"No," he retorted slightly too loudly. "No," he said again, dropping his voice, aware of the sleeping baby next door. "This isn't something that can be fixed with some big announcement and my return to being a full-time Omega, Mikey. I need to talk to Hannibal, if he'll let me. I don't want him to want the Omega," he added softly.

"You know it doesn't work like that," Michael rebuked.

"How'd you know? We dull our scents when we meet our mates, to ensure they aren't just after the status, but yours all knew you were Omegas. I wouldn't even _think_ that they don't love you, but Hannibal thinks I'm a Beta and if he reacts like _that_ after kissing me as a Beta then wants to jump my bones after I tell him I'm an Omega, then _how do I know_? How can I be sure that the lure of my dynamic isn't what's causing the affection?" Will sucked in a breath before charging on. "I mean, he's rich, sure, and he's a Thoroughbred, so maybe he wouldn't be after the money, but he'd be the first Thoroughbred in _ninety_ _years_ to mate a Male Omega. That fame, that elevation, even someone Royal would be swayed by that."   

"I -" Mikey's voice cracked. "I wouldn't have thought that he would care about status, money, elevation. If what you say is true about the man, he's happier with you than his hundred would-be admirers at the Opera." Another pause. "There has never been a one-sided match, Will, _ever_. We aren't like other Omegas. We don't have the luxury of browsing until we think someone is cute, for us there is only one."

"I know," Will snapped, interrupting.

"Then you also know," Michael continued, calm and undeterred, "that our Alphas are as bound to us as we are to them. Each of them went through their life searching for a mate but were never satisfied. They never found someone they truly cared for, or could hold their attention for very long. They can sleep with others, sure, but mating? - that never went through their minds. Before me, Adam had never even considered the possibility of having a friend, let alone a mate or children. Hannibal will be the same. Of all those people you came across, all those beautiful females in their diamonds and stunning dresses, has any of them claimed to hold your Alpha's mind, his attention, his heart? No - they all say the same: that he's a gentleman, an eligible bachelor and someone who could have anyone he wanted, but hasn't yet. That's because he's as much yours as you are his. Give him some time. He may be panicking because of the depth of his feelings for you, or because you're a man, or because you're a Beta - there is an expectation for Thoroughbreds to wed Omegas after all. Perhaps it's that which worries him." Mikey's hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek was soothing and Will mustered a weak smile.

"Thanks," he whispered, grateful for the talk - and the reassurance. Michael smiled again, pressing their foreheads together.

"I'm always here for you brother," he confessed. "Anytime."

He wasn't sure how long they stayed that way, half-embracing in the bathroom, but eventually they pulled back. Michael opened his mouth to speak but a shout from the other room broke through their bubble of quiet. "Will!" It sounded like Brian. "Your asshole of a boss is calling again."

"Fuckssake," Will snarled, mood suddenly souring as he pulled on the closest pair of sweatpants and stormed into the room, Michael hot on his heels, eager to sooth the man's fluctuating temper. He had never felt so out-of-sorts, mood swinging like a pendulum from one extreme to the other.

Will caught the phone tossed at him from the other side of the suite and stared, affronted, at the screen, lip slightly upturned in a half-snarl. He had been called no less than ten times since his arrival at the Compound. Part of him knew he should answer the man but he ended the call instead. Jack was not his priority - he still had another two days with his brothers and then there was the Hannibal mess to - 

Jack rang again. This time, he did pick up. 

"What?" he snapped. 

"Where  _are_ you?" the Alpha growled. If Will were anything than what he was: a male Omega with a mate that could easily defeat Jack Crawford, he would have bared his soft spots at the man after using a tone like that.

"Away," he returned, "with family," he corrected, voice slightly gentler. 

"You don't have family," Jack shot back, blunt and uncaring. "And you took your dogs?" A creak underfoot and Will knew that Jack was at his house, on his porch. His curiosity increased at the same time his stomach dropped because it must have been something important if Jack had taken the time to drive out to his little house in Wolf Trap. He shot Mikey a look. 

"Jake was recalled, as is protocol with new births, so he brought your pack with him," the man explained. Will felt a wave of warmth for his brother wash over him, so he replied by stepping close and dragging his cheek across Mikey's neck. The purr that rumbled in Michael's neck saw his other brothers smile. 

"Family emergency Jack," Will insisted, realising he hadn't replied to the man on the other end of the line.

"Family emergencies will have to wait, I need you." Underneath the bluster and the bravado, there was desperation too.

"Jack, I  _can't_."

"It's the Ripper, Will, he's back," Jack shouted and Will flinched, fighting the urge to whine in distress. Immediately every brother able too had pressed themselves against him in a show of solidarity, of support. Because here would be the moment that Will usually caved and yielded to Jack's wishes, but he wouldn't - couldn't - today.

"No, Jack. You can send me the pictures of the scene, but I won't be back for another two days. Find someone else," he laughed hollowly, before continuing, "maybe Doctor Lecter can help you with your profile." He snapped the phone shut and took a deep breath before the man could respond. His phone was immediately buzzing again, but he muted it and tossed in the vague direction of one of the armchairs.

He was rewarded by a spontaneous puppy pile as each of his brothers clambered closer to him, murmuring support. Ricky and the baby looked on from their den of blankets in the corner and it was as he regarded them both that someone - it may have been Damien - accidentally dragged a finger over the mockery of Hannibal's mark and the tender, purple spot on his hip burned furiously. Something broken tore itself free. It wasn't quite the cry they produced to call their mates to them when they were distressed, Will was un-mated and it was too heart-wrenching, not enough panic, for that, but it was close enough to startle those around him. And suddenly fat tears were rolling down his face. 

He felt feverish and raw - as though he had been torn open and left, like an oozing wound, to the open air. Every breath scratched the inside of his chest and made his lungs ache, each thought felt too loud inside his skull, each blink of his eyes made them sting as though salt had been thrown at them. He wanted Hannibal in every sense of the word and the man's reaction was breaking him. He was collapsing in on himself and he hated it. He hated the dependency he had on his other half, hated that one small rejection felt like a death by a thousand cuts, hated that the man held such power over him. It was unfair and cruel, and Will was _sobbing_ now. Arms were wrapping themselves around him, ignoring the small hiccupping requests for his Alpha and distressed noises were falling from the lips of his brothers as they tried desperately to console him. But, as they collapsed to the floor, tangled in one another and unsure whose limb was whose, Will couldn't help but feel that it lacked the heavy pressure his Alpha would have provided. The smell was too sweet and there was no scent of thunder or woodland to pacify him. He cried himself out against Mikey's shirt, who rocked him gently as though he were a pup, not a brother, and no one spoke. Not even the baby made a sound as Will cried himself hoarse. What would they say? How would they make it better? - they couldn't.

And if Will choked out Hannibal's name desperately in his sleep, well, they didn't mention that either.


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Hannibal - although I wish I did - so all rights go to NBC and Thomas Harris
> 
> I feel that I'm going to need to add the tag: 'Someone Save Will Graham' because the poor baby is going through the ringer and, well, shit's only going to go sideways from here...  
> And as much as I love him, Hannibal is being a world class bitch (which should totally be a tag too)
> 
> Sorry to those who were eager to see the Ripper's latest kill, it's not in this bit, but have no fear, it's coming up in the next chapter, after this disaster of a thing...

His house felt quiet.

After the squalling done by himself, and the newborn, the solitary was welcome but unnerving. Jake, per protocol, had stayed at the Compound and Will, climbing the walls, had left as soon as Ricky said he could, ignoring the insistent urging of his brothers to stay. Mikey had wanted someone to go with him, but he just wanted to be alone, with his dogs, and try and mend the tattered remains of his relationship with Hannibal. At this point, he wasn't above revealing himself to ensure the man wouldn't leave him, but even as desperate as he was to see the Alpha, the thought made his stomach turn uncomfortably. No, he wouldn't do that.

He felt empty and hollowed out after his episode in the birthing suite. Stripped down and raw in a way he hadn't been since _him_ , since Rafa. And Hannibal, his mate, was making him feel the same. His beautiful mate... who couldn't stand the sight of him. He longed to see the man, but had never been more frightened of something in his life. He was torn between simply turning up on his front doorstep or waiting for fate to throw them together again. He was leaning heavily towards the latter.

Jack Crawford hadn't called. Whether the man had finally decided to leave Will alone, or perhaps he found he didn't need him after all, the profiler wasn't sure, but the silence was eerier than the one in his house. So he stayed put and made himself too busy to notice. He woke with the sun and took dawn walks with his dogs over the flat fields that surrounded him. The pack scampered out in front, cutting a path through the undergrowth for him. Sometimes they would return to his side, holding sticks or the remains of an unfortunate rabbit between their teeth, but mostly they bounded away - happy to be back home with their owner and free from tall fences. When he returned, Will would pull on his waders, his hat, drape a bag over his shoulder and stride down to the stream. Sometimes Winston would join him, eager to sit on the bank and snap at fish when he was feeling adventurous, but normally it was only him. The quiet, peaceful silence would roll over him like a balm, soothing his aching bones and healing the raw wounds left after too many conversations with Jack, Hannibal and everyone at the FBI. Despite the growing number of things he knew he was avoiding, when he pushed against the current and cast his line, he never felt calmer, or more at peace. As the night began to peak its way over the horizon, he would walk back, catch in hand, make a simple meal and then sit on the porch with a scotch, just watching the stars. When it got too cold to endure and the blankets he had draped over himself weren't enough, he stumbled in, stoking the fire and curled up between warm, furry bodies until it was time to sleep. It was simple and straightforward, and for a while Will forgot about what it was like to have to stare at mutilated corpses. He stopped walking around in his sleep, he stopped dreaming of writhing black monsters made of feathers and smoke. He felt clear and, for the first time in a while, awake.

But he knew he couldn't avoid it much longer. Not only had his impromptu departure to see Ricky bring baby Jackson into the world seen him miss class, but the situation with Hannibal needed a resolution - positive or negative, it didn't matter, it just needed to be sorted. He hoped his Alpha would have calmed enough to see him, let him explain the depths of his feelings and, should that encourage a confession on Hannibal's part, let him finally reveal who he was and what they were to each other. So he dutifully fed, watered and fussed his dogs before heading out in the crisp Virginia morning, chest tight and aching in all the wrong places. The pack had whined their confusion at him leaving, at not sticking to the routine, but after the days and days that had blurred together - Will couldn't remember how long it had been - he needed to return to civilisation. He needed to step back into the world he had built up around him. 

"Today will be good," he muttered to himself, tossing his briefcase haphazardly into the back and sitting heavily in the driver's seat. His house looked lonely to him all of a sudden - lost without an anchor in the tossing waves of the morning fog. The knot in his chest tightened again and he fumbled with the key in the ignition before he could talk himself out of heading in and curling up between his animals, boat motor on the floor before him and smouldering fire in the grate. "Today _will_ be good," he insisted, backing out of the driveway, swinging the car around and pressing onward. 

The roads all looked the same: black tarmac, dulled yellow lines, and the blur of whatever he happened to be passing, yet there was something that made him feel _on-edge_. Perhaps it was his anxiety about Hannibal or the ugly part of himself that admitted he would much rather be in a pile of limbs with his brothers than deal with whatever was waiting for him, but he couldn't let himself dwell on that. He had left the Compound because he needed too and because he had left _that_ life behind. He would always be an Omega, but he would never be the kind of Omega that lived behind high fences, fawned over by strangers, as his brother's did. Maybe once, before Rafa and before his naivety was crudely shattered, but even then he had been different. He had spent a lifetime avoiding eye contact - why would be ever choose a world that saw him as the attention of so many eyes? He would return to the Compound if he needed too, of course - there was too much out in the world for him and too much he could offer the world in turn for him to go back for anything less.

He found himself wondering if Jack would let him consult should he know the truth of his dynamic. Would he would push as hard if he did? Would he use that soft, Alana-only tone? Or would he do as many people had done to his brothers before: tried to court him? The latter was incredibly unlikely. Jack loved his Bella, Will knew. In fact, Will knew that the likely scenario would see Jack pushing just as hard: his boss was about results and would rather see him dancing with insanity that letting people die by their hundreds. He would probably spin it well, using Will's dynamic to argue that he had the best doctors, psychiatrists and attendants in the world to help should he go to far. In fact, Jack might push him harder if he knew he had such power, influence and assets in his corner.

Will managed to park, grab his things and push his glasses on his face before he was spotted by anyone. He felt like he was moving through treacle; slow, sluggishly and his perception was hazy somehow. It only worsened when hushed whispers began as he passed students heading into the building. Jack would know within the hour that he was back from his 'family emergency'. The whispers still followed him, morphing into some living, breathing thing. Like a predator that had scented blood, they stalked behind him, hopping from the mouth of one trainee to another, clinging onto lips with jagged claws. Part of him began to panic - did he _not_ smell of Beta? Did he look different? As far as he knew he looked the same as he had that morning: dishevelled, somewhat nervous and anti-social. Maybe he had been away longer than he realised. But even with his time off at home, it couldn't have been more than a week or two that he had been absent from the Bureau. He couldn't have changed that much.

Yet still it followed him.

In the end, the classroom gave him a welcome break. The lights were slightly dimmed, but a couple of students were already present. They started at the sight of him, clearly not prepared to have their usual lecturer. Will wondered who had been teaching in his place but his best guess was probably that it was Alana. More filtered in, conversations halting mid-sentence at the sight of him and _what was it_?! His patience was quickly growing thin but he forced it all down and wrote it off as nothing more than a product of them being surprised to see him. The click of heels on wood told him his replacement was nearby, so he dropped the lights further, flickered on the PowerPoint and began to talk, eager not to speak to Alana if at all possible. 

He saw her skid to a halt in shock, her beautiful eyes widening as she did an obvious double-take, bag slipping between slack fingers and hitting the ground with a dull thud. Within a moment, she was striding quickly from the room. Her bag, however, was still where she had dropped it, meaning she would be back immediately. No doubt with Jack. But Will kept talking, letting the words flow from his mouth like the stream behind his house: easily and naturally. He actually felt relaxed, despite the topic being the macabre violence he had not suffered for a while. He helped that he had started with an easier topic: lecturing on murderers with a sexual component was always easier to him that those without, partly because those types of killers were easier for him to understand. He didn't have to go deep to reach their patterns and reconstruct their thinking. He never got lost inside the head of a sexual sadist. It helped, of course, that before Hannibal, he hadn't been interested in that aspect of life enough to absorb those perversions. Luckily, even with his newly awakened libido, his desire was still non-existent outside of the European and therefore he was still immune.

He managed an incredible thirty two minutes of teaching, good teaching too if the number of the students who had begun to lean forward in their seats was any indication, before he was interrupted.  

Alana, her heels clacking like hooves on the floor, had returned. It had taken her a surprising long time to reappear but, as he predicted, Jack was with her. He looked as furious as Will thought he might. But what made the butterflies in his stomach twist and turn into a writhing den of snakes was that _Hannibal_ was also there, coat draped over one arm, person-suit and real suit as immaculate as he had come to expect. 

"Everyone OUT!" Jack roared, not even hesitating as he stormed into the class, eyes on nobody but Will. The class didn't immediately react, dazed at the interruption, so he turned and snarled at them, his aggression, and his Alpha, rolling off him in waves. They scampered away, clearing the hall in mere seconds in a desperate attempt to not be caught in the crossfire of the Guru's fury.

"There's no need to yell at the children, Jack," Will retorted, voice soft and smooth, as he dropped his glasses to the side and scrubbed at his face. He missed the rage that crossed Crawford's face, but he couldn't miss the man physically pinning him to the wall by his neck.

" _Jack_!" Alana cried, startled, and suddenly trying to get in between them. A single look from Jack had her pausing. Will was strong, as strong as any Alpha, but Jack was too jumped up on hormones for him to really stand a chance; if Will couldn't get out of Jack's grip, then Alana would have no chance in the world. The Omega was trying very hard not to think of the last time he had been pinned down by his neck, but the Italian bathroom began to swim around him. He was biting back a distressed whine and trembling violently when Jack finally spoke.

"You come when I call, Graham," he spat, spittle flying. "And I expect you to be there. Not when it's convenient for you, but when I CALL! We had a Ripper kill, Will and you, you let him GET AWAY!" Jack's voice rose through the decibels until Will felt his ears ringing. His gaze naturally shifted to look at Hannibal, slightly pleading for an intervention of some kind, but he kept the Omegan cry deep in his chest. The man looked incredibly unsettled, his Alpha clearly howling at him to stop the offence if the slight shake in his hands and the nervous half-step forwards were any indication, but he was staying still almost to prove a point to himself. He was testing the limits of his control, Will realised. Well it was a shitty time to do so, he thought, returning his attention to Jack and trying to claw at the hand around his throat which had steadily been increasing pressure. If the man continued for much longer, Will would have no control over his Omega and the situation would turn dangerous, and no doubt mortifying, for all of them. It took a moment until the man finally realised what he was doing and released him. Will slumped to the ground, heaving in ragged breaths and Alana rushed to his side. He was waving her away when he smelt it. It was faint, a few days old perhaps, but it was there.  

Oh.

And everything drained itself of colour.

He was sure the change on his face was palpable given the flicker of surprise on Hannibal's features. Jack was opening his mouth to fight but Will had given up caring about his opinion when he scented the pretty Omega. 

"I quit." The room fell silent. Jack's mouth closed with a clack of teeth. 

"What?" the Alpha asked. 

"I quit," Will repeated, voice croaky as he clambered stiffly to his feet. He knew his back was too rigid, posture too tight too look anything like himself, but he frankly didn't care. He wouldn't - couldn't - say there any longer. 

Alana took a deep breath in. "Will, I understand -"

"Say another word to me and I'll break every bone in your body, Alana," he snapped in reply, eyes blazing with fury, and with pain. That unsettled her because she was not expecting to look at Will and see a man struggling with himself, struggling to not  _attack her_. 

"Now Will," Jack began, finally catching on to the profiler's emotions and the feral nature of them. "I understand -"

"I quit Jack," he repeated, moving to pack up his things. He felt robotic - stiff, unused and controlled by an external force. His movements, usually fluid, were clunky and his limbs felt like lead. It wasn't even autopilot because Will was sure if he had that function, it wouldn't be working. Gone was the fear, gone were the flickers of that incident in Italy, gone was the worry of it all - instead a hand had wrapped itself around his heart and was slowly squeezing.

" _William_ ," came that beautiful, sultry voice he loved so much. "I -"

"Will," he snarled, slamming something down on the table, although he wasn't sure what, and finally meeting the maroon gaze of his mate. "My name is Will." He paused, sucking in a breath and trying to steady the shake in his hands. "Use my name or don't fucking talk to me."

"Will," Hannibal tried again, looking for the first time incredibly unsure about the situation. He had played this wrong, he realised, but he still wasn't aware that Will _knew_. "You don't seem yourself," he tried. 

The laugh that forced itself past Will's lips was hollow and mocking, but dark and haunted too. It spoke of a suffering they could never understand. "Really?" he drawled.

"What  _happened_ Will?" It was Alana and  _oh_ , Will had  _warned her_. 

He turned, face blank, murder in his eyes and every muscle locked. He knew he should just leave, just turn away, walk down to his car and drive off, but every cell wanted to rip her into so many pieces that she could never be reassembled. He wanted her to spend millennia floating through time, watching others be born, die and live while she was trapped alone and unable to reach out. He took a step forward, noticing that Jack's hand had drifted almost subconsciously to his firearm. Alana looked visibly rattled, the primal part of her beginning to understand the monster she had just poked with a stick. It was ironic, really. He could kill Alana right there and then, in that dimly lit classroom, and walk out a free man. It was his right to do so.

Hannibal's hand on his shoulder broke his thoughts...but only for a moment. The greatest success was diverting his attention from Alana to him, and Will's rage turned black and twisted, awakening all the ugly parts inside him. He shot around at a speed he knew he shouldn't flaunt and shoved the man with all his might. Unsuspecting to Will's intentions and therefore not ready for the move, Hannibal tumbled backwards, coat falling to the floor and arms flailing as he barely managed to catch himself before he fell. He finally looked as rattled as Will felt. 

"Will," Jack said in warning. His gun was out now. 

"Don't touch me," Will hissed at his mate, giving Jack no thought. He felt small, insignificant and hurt - so, so hurt. It was clear then that Hannibal finally understood. His face never changed - the man clearly trying incredibly hard to be unapologetic - but the wounded hurt and shame in his eyes was all his Alpha. His Alpha who had hated every minute of it, had fought the man controlling him the whole time... but it _had_ happened and that was all Will needed. "Was it so bad? Was it so  _disgusting to you_?!" he snarled, eyes unwavering and begging for an answer. Hannibal had kissed him back, how could have he been so horrified that he had resorted to - 

Will bit back a pained cry as Hannibal schooled his features. "It should never have happened," the European replied finally. And oh, he was telling the truth. Regret, he regretted their kiss; and while it was clear the Alpha knew, Hannibal wouldn't let himself feel it. He was too focused on maintaining control to notice what his instincts were trying to tell him: that Will was made for him. The future he had desired, had longed for, could never happen. Because Hannibal would only be with him if he were an Omega, and Will _refused_ to be loved purely because of his dynamic. He knew, deep down, that what happened next was on him because he could reveal himself and no doubt the Doctor would grovel and apologise, and they would probably be together. But he would rather be alone than know it was biology, not choice, that ended in their coupling. Hannibal may be _it_ for Will, but he would never force his mate into a loveless match. And Hannibal didn't love him. He regretted it. _Never should have happened_.  

He wouldn't cry, not here in front of these people. These people who masqueraded as his friends but had all, in the end, betrayed some part of him. He refused to let himself cry, especially in front of Alana.

Alana, who had called herself his friend... until it suited her not to be.

Alana who had spread her legs for his mate like a common whore. Alana, who wore his scent like an expensive perfume and who had simpered and looked up through her eyelashes at the man. Alana, who had either not showered very well, or had allowed herself to be taken enough times to leave a lasting impression.

Or, he thought, heart shattering, she had pupped.

That thought made something dark and feral crawl up his throat, but he bit it back fiercely. The pretty  _female_ Omega who had said she cared about him had been eyeing up Hannibal for a while, and it was probably on the day he had been nearly mated by the European himself that she had finally managed to clamber onto his knot. He didn't know who he hated more in that instant: her for being so woefully foolish, or  _Him_ , for betraying him so thoroughly. 

"You won't see me again," Will finally choked out, throat closing fast, before turning to look at Jack who seemed too stunned to effectively react to the rapidly deteriorating situation. "You won't ever see me again." He grabbed his briefcase and made for the door. 

"Will!" Alana cried out behind him. The man didn't stop, his footsteps didn't even falter, and he definitely did not look back. 

"I hope you're very happy together," he called out hollowly, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest. "You deserve each other." And with that, he disappeared out of the door and left the FBI behind.


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Hannibal - although I wish I did - so all rights go to NBC and Thomas Harris
> 
> Okay. So that last chapter was really heavy, and while this one is still pretty angsty, I decided to lighten it up a bit with murder - as is traditional in the Hannibal verse... So prepare: we have the Ripper scene at last (and maybe some other stuff too).  
> I think we all needed a breather after that last one...
> 
> You guys have been amazing with the work so far and I am like bursting with love for you all. 
> 
> Much, much love.

The file was slipped underneath his door ten days after he moved back into the Compound.

In a fit of anger, hurt and blinded by tears, Will had torn through his house, thrown anything of value into boxes and upturned the rest. The place was a mess, his nails were bloodied and torn and his world was grey, when Adam finally pulled up. The well-built Alpha had been curious at Will's request to come alone, but instantly he understood. 

Will didn't want to see his brothers, he didn't want to see Jake, he didn't want to be anywhere other than fishing in his stream, but he had to keep his word. For his sake, and for Alana's. He couldn't hurt Hannibal even if he wanted to, and the Omega would no doubt take the punishment if Will was allowed to exact the vengeance he so desperately desired. The sandy-haired man hadn't said a word, only loaded one box after another into the four-by-four before letting the dogs scramble into the back. And Will was too worn out to do anything other than lock the door behind him, leaving his meagre furniture upturned and scattered across the floor - the little boat on the fog splintered by a wave. His small house may have been a haven, a sacred space, but it was known to those he wished to leave behind.

"Are you sure?" Adam had breathed so softly, he barely managed to form the words.

"I considered burning it down," Will replied in lieu of answering, but Adam, sweet and dependable Adam knew exactly what he was asking. _Take me home before I do something foolish_ , before he did something he couldn't  _undo_. 

So he curled in on himself, his favourite blanket draped around him like a shield, fingers digging into the soft but worn corners. He had never felt so  _lost_. Even after Rafa there had been a purpose to everything. It may not have been the most glamorous way to move past what had happened but becoming a detective was good, dependable work. He helped people. He pieced together the broken parts of others, of other families. He gave a voice to those taken by the dark. He gave peace to weary, tormented victims and showed families bodies to lay to rest. He was a cultivator of strays, yes, but he was also a healer of souls. 

And, in his own way, Hannibal had tainted that. He had taken that good, pure thing, and made it impossible to return to. Because while Jack may have pushed, while the technicians may have mocked, he could always find his way back to the work, one way or another. Now, when he closed his eyes, he could only smell  _them_. It was clear that all of his brothers were worried for him, but too wary of his temperamental and volatile reactions to press too much. He had barely said three words after stepping back into the Compound, dogs in tow. Not even Emily, bounding up to him in her youthful, naive way, had stirred him from the numbness within. He was fading, he knew; floating away like falling leaves on the crisp Autumn wind. There was nothing to do to stop it - nothing at all. He would simply have to hope that there was enough of him left to piece a life back together when colour finally began to seep back into his world.

But, he thought, curiously picking up the file, it seemed someone was trying to jump-start that.

It was a heavy file, filled with what looked like pictures, but the outside was plain. And Will, unsure, opened it slowly.

Photographs, dozens of them all from different angles greeted him. They were clinical and professional, but he knew immediately what it was without needing to see the worse of them: crime scene photos. And not just any crime scene. There were scrawling notes curving down the side of the page that looked remarkably like Jack's handwriting, and Will wondered just who had got the file, and what lengths they had gone to in order to obtain it. And if the looping script was any indication, it was the Ripper case. The murder that Jack had tried to throw in his face _that_ day. Will stopped, pushing down the lump in his throat and shutting the file, tossing it in the vague direction of the nearest table. He grabbed his blanket and stormed off.

But he found himself looking over to that spot during the day.

And the next.

And the day after that.

Eventually the file was burning a hole in his subconscious, burrowing in to every thought, monopolising his time like a greedy child. He found himself stalking past it over and over. He had to see. 

It was two weeks after his arrival that he finally _looked_ at the case.  

The darkness was practically swimming around the body, curling and writhing like a den of hissing snakes and Will could feel it through the picture, even weeks after it had happened. It was unusual, incredibly unusual, for a Ripper crime. There was no real public shaming, despite the position of the body and the mutilations done to it. It was too complicated to be the Ripper simply conducting that which he thought a public service. The man, George Francis, had been a door-to-door salesmen, according to the file. He had clearly knocked on the wrong door.

George was sat in the 'seiza' position, legs folded beneath him, but his head was bowed slightly forward, thus curving his spine. He had been kept upright by steel wire tied thrice around his neck that had been fixed to the ceiling. He had been cut from his Adam's Apple to a couple of inches above his pubic bone and the skin had been pealed back, away from his body as though he were merely a jacket to be unzipped. The flesh had been pinned to his back with fishing hooks - several of them on each side like some perverted tattoo - and it was pulled taut enough to show that the transformation took effort. The top of his crania had been removed, the way Will commonly saw in autopsies, and while the outside was bloodied, with some skin and hair clinging to the bone, the inside was smooth - the white membrane having been scraped away. George's brain was missing, too. His face, pulled this way and that during the butchering, had begun to sag over the facial bones, giving an almost comical appearance... but Will was positive that hadn't been the Ripper's attention. The top of the skull had been laid before him like a bowl - the killer had even provided a knife and fork - and inside lay the genitals of their victim. The notes in the file told Will it had been done while the man was still alive. There had never been a castration before in the Ripper case, but this one didn't seem like a castration, more a removal, a distancing from them - from the place of desire perhaps? Was he, in his own way, mocking - or rebuking - lust? Whatever the salesman had done to offend the Ripper, it was probably sexual in nature. Perhaps the Ripper was a jilted lover? No. Will dismissed that instantly. The Ripper was an Alpha, he was sure, and so was George Francis. While it wasn't unheard of having an Alpha-Alpha pair, the killer he hunted would sooner settle for nothing. He wanted an Omega or he would happily live without a mate, Will was sure.

Yet the most interesting aspect of the kill wasn't the castration, the baring of the organs or even the removal of the brain, it was the position of the man's hands. They had both been crudely shoved into his own chest cavity, disappearing beneath blood and under the cracked ribs that the Ripper had forced apart to make room for his creation. They slipped past the meaty folds of his lungs and were clutched around his heart. It was macabre but so incredibly unusual that for the first hour, Will had no clue what to make of it. By the second, he had considered an attempt at a self-administered cardiac massage, a mocking jibe - the way people clutched at their heart in death - and something sexual: but nothing felt right. The ideas just wouldn't stick. It was such a slippery crime scene. Every time he thought he had a hold on the motive, on the message behind the death, it slithered free from his grasp: an eel fresh from the water and desperate to return. Maybe it was because he couldn't focus, or maybe it was because he was reading too much into something that wasn't actually there, but everything,  _everything_ had a meaning with the killer. He wouldn't start with the pointless so deep into his body-count. 

He tried to sleep, he failed. 

He threw the photos at the wall. He sobbed. He lay across the arm of the chair, hair falling in his eyes and batted away the licking tongues of his dogs. He paced. He tried to watch television. He cut away his curls and watched them fall to his feet. He kept coming back to George Francis and his hands. He missed - 

He stopped. He breathed. He started again.

Then he  _saw_. 

The photographs showed him the anger, the rage, the intention to humiliate, but he saw for the first time, the  _hurt_. George Francis wasn't reviving himself, he wasn't indulging in some sexual perversion of the Ripper's, he was _clawing out his own heart_. He was trying to stop himself from feeling. Will didn't know if the feeling was good or bad, and with a mind as twisted as the Ripper, he'd probably never know. But he could see. The killer was fighting with  _emotion_. He had revisited his theory of a jilted lover or that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't a Ripper body. But both were wrong, impossible explanations. Somehow, the infamous, notorious, long-sought after killer, had stumbled onto something he had no idea how to react too. He was so conflicted, Will saw. His mind was on fire, turning so quickly it was tangling itself in knots that only grew tighter the more he panicked. Because that's exactly what the body was: panic. There was no pre-planning, no intention to continue to kill another two. It was a  _reaction_ to  _emotion_.

Adam, the only one Will let into his quarters, had arrived with food at the usual time and, as he always did, attempted conversation.

"That looks ugly," he muttered, jerking his head towards the pictures, not really expecting a reply. "What'd you make of it?"

"He's panicking," Will huffed and a clatter of cutlery told him Adam had dropped all intention of subtlety at the _shock_ of hearing his brother-in-law speak. "It's the Ripper, but he broke pattern. This isn't a sounder of three. This wasn't planned or premeditated like the others, but it's a reaction. Something, or someone, had gotten under his skin; he's rattled somehow."

"Rattled?" he murmured gently, trying to encourage and not spook his friend. 

"Everything the Ripper does has a meaning, has poise and  _grace_. He plans for days if not weeks and makes sure there is nothing that could lead back to him and that his point is clear. This? This is screaming at me that he didn't plan. For the first time his intentions are awry. He didn't want to do this, he  **had to**. This is anger, and confusion, and instinct."

"At the person who rattled him?" Adam pressed, slowly, coming up beside him, leaning over his shoulder.

"No," Will replied, "at himself." There was a pause. "This," he pointed at the photo of the makeshift bowl, "it's almost disguised, but I think he's trying to separate himself from desire..." he confessed, before his mouth twisted. "No brains and too much heart." Will paused, glancing over slightly and huffing out a breath. "What are they saying about me?" he asked. 

Adam let out a suffering sigh. "They're worried about you," he admitted. 

"And what aren't you telling me?" he pressed. 

Adam hesitated but the focused glare of the Omega had him nodding, relenting. "A couple of days after -" he struggled with words before jerking his chin in a silent attempt to convey what he didn't want to say, "Crawford went to your house. He got worried. You are apparently an Endangered Runaway, in need of help. He's plastered your face across the net, the TV. Luckily all photos of you as an Omega are only hard-copy, or in the hands of officials so high up in the food chain that nothing can connect your life here to that one."

Will hummed. "I thought only children were classed as Endangered Runaways." 

Adam only shrugged in reply, his blue eyes dulled slightly by tiredness and worry. "It's a shit-storm, Will," he confessed. 

"I know." 

Adam left soon after. Luckily no one else took his place.

Will slept. He woke. He fussed his dogs out in his private garden. He lay on the grass. He finished the book he started the day before. He didn't think of -

There was another file when he woke up the next day. It was thinner. This time, Will didn't even try to fight it. He pulled the photos out and let the murder flash before his eyes.

It wasn't the Ripper, but it was trying so hard to be.  

There was no blood. Not a single drop found in the entire scene. Not in the house nor in the garden where they had been staged. Will would have expected something, anything, but it was clean. The technicians - was that Bev's handwriting? - had been thorough, but there was nothing. It was a pair, unlike the Ripper death. A couple, their clean, alabaster skin pale and flawless. Even through the photographs he could see that they were to be porcelain dolls, moved to show the image of their creator. There was no confusion in this murder. The man behind them knew exactly what he wanted to show.

Both the man, an Alpha, and the woman, an Omega, were naked, but there was a shamelessness about it. Will felt no need to cover them: they were artwork, belonging more in the chapels of Europe than a back-garden in Delaware. The female was positioned on the floor, back arched. Harp strings had been hooked into her skin and pulled taught, attached to the neck of the instrument that arched overhead. They met her hands, which had been bound with rope, and he knew that if he was to pluck any of the strings, they would sing to him. The column was nestled between her thighs. She was the body of the harp and the body of the music. Her head rested in the male’s lap, her mouth open with what could only be describe as pleasure. The male was bent forward slowly, fingers tugging at the strings, trying to play the makeshift instrument he had been presented eagerly. His eyes were closed, expression serious, focused. He was the mind behind the music, the dominant, the one to give pleasure - the Alpha. 

"It's a taunt," Will had told Adam that evening around a mouthful of macaroni cheese. "He's proving he can provide greater pleasure."

"Who's he taunting?" Adam asked quietly. 

"Former lover maybe, a rival perhaps? I'm not sure. He's proving a point though." 

Winston stole a bite from his plate. Adam left. Will took a long, too-hot bath that left his skin pink and tight. He slept. He woke. He slept again. He contemplated learning an instrument. 

Another file. The same, unknown killer. This time a Beta, holding his own heart, naked again and pleasure on his face. He'd been staged outdoors, in the local woodland, on a popular hiking trail.

"He stepping up his game," he replied to Adam's unspoken request. "And it's overtly sexual," he continued. "It's a challenge to a rival - to another Alpha most likely. Although why he chose to kill a Beta, I don't know," he shrugged. "I would have killed an Omega."

Adam took the remains of Will's stir-fry when he left. Will took up kick-boxing again. The dogs grew bolder as the master grew into himself. He read a book on high-school psychology and laughed. He stubbed his toe on the table and cursed. He didn't cry once.

Another file.

"Him again," Adam said. Will nodded and flashed him a photo, not looking up.

"He's going to be a bitch to catch," he mused. There was still no blood. It was too clean, too white, too - a rebirth, perhaps? Maybe a form of compulsive disorder - a burning need not to make a mess. He was an unusual monster. He shared his thoughts with Adam.

The man left. Will felt a little lonelier when he'd gone.

He did press-ups in the garden. He played with his dogs. He folded up his blanket and put it in the footlocker at the end of his bed. He breathed in the fresh air and enjoyed it.

"How long has it been?" Will asked when he next saw his brother-in-law.

"Since you got here?" Adam clarified. The Omega nodded and took a bite of his sandwich.

"Nearly two months."

"Oh," he said. "Okay."

Another file. An Alpha laying at the feet of another. The one standing, haphazardly propped up by poles, in the tableaux was crowned in blood, holding the other victim's heart aloft. Will buzzed - a _threat_. He was surprised the Alpha being threatened had not responded. Perhaps he didn't know he was being challenged. Or perhaps they were not bringing him _those_ files. 

The ache in his chest was better. He whistled to his dogs and slept between them on the grass. His curls grew back softer than before.

He learned French. He got good. Adam practised with him in between meals. He found himself looking at the door. He laughed at Adam's jokes.

He felt warm again. 

The sky was blue. The grass was green.

He ate Eggs Florentine with Adam.

He followed his brother-in-law through the door when he left with his plate.  


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Hannibal - although I wish I did - so all rights go to NBC and Thomas Harris. 
> 
> Enjoy, my pretties. I decided to throw up two chapters (Eight and Nine) at the same time because Eight was more of a stepping stone into the next part... And because I'm like totally benevolent (ha, not really haha). 
> 
> Also, there's this crow that's been sat outside my window for like, two days now, and I think I may have inadvertently adopted him? I should probably be worried that one of the most common omens of death is sat in front of me as I write a story about serial killers, but hey, the world's a weird place.
> 
> I got nothing but love for you all; stay sane, beautiful people.

There was something they weren't telling him. They were being so  _careful_ with him, _too_ careful almost.

Will didn't want careful. He'd had two months of careful, respectful pauses and Adam making sure he stayed sane. He had seen no one but his dogs and his brother's Alpha and had withdrawn completely from the world. He needed to get back into it, not be coddled some more. He had missed too much, he realised, too. Jackson had grown: Ricky's youngest actually looked like a baby rather than a squalling bag of un-fused bones and jelly. Brian had grown scruff - apparently he'd had a beard a few weeks previously but had shaved it. Levi was interested in someone but they were not his Alpha. Tiger was preparing a show of his artwork after it had been selected anonymously to feature along with four others in a gallery showcasing new talent; it was in New York and the twenty-four year old was shaking with excitement. Damien was considering having another pup with James. Things had moved on while he had been in his self-made isolation. The world had kept spinning, even after Will's had collapsed. He wanted to hear about it all, but after they had clambered over each other to hug him, they had retreated to that 'respectable' distance and were giving him time and space. Too much time and space. He appreciated it, he did, but it was slowly driving him mad.

And there was something more: an elephant in the room that had _nothing_ to do with Hannibal or what had happened at the FBI. It was darker, like a seedy secret they had decided he couldn't handle yet. Yet it wasn't the other Omegas keeping it from him - it was the Alphas. Clearly his brothers were as unknowing as he was and that spooked him; for their mates to make such an executive decision unnerved him. And he knew they were especially eager to keep Will of it: probably as it was to do with him more than any of the others. He knew his brother-in-laws were just looking out for him, but shit-was-going-to-hit-the-fan if someone didn't explain, and soon. 

It was a week after he emerged from his self-imposed solitude that they finally met each other's gaze and decided in that quiet, understated way, that they were going to tell him. Tom had spent most of the morning muttering to James before disappearing somewhere. He had returned, had a brief discussion with Dom before Ricky had called him away. It raised Will's hackles and so proceeded to glare them all into submission. He wouldn't have been remotely concerned about what they were going to say if they hadn't been so cloak and dagger about it all. It could have been something as simple as Freddie Lounds writing something vitriolic and cruel, but their approach to the situation made his blood curl like milk in his veins.

The coming together in one of the security suites on the first floor of the Compound had been a casual one. They had been throwing each other glances and silently urging Will to follow them, trying not to alert their partners to what was going on, however after they had dismissed the Betas in the room and drawn down the blinds, the tension in the room was palpable. Thick and heavy, it weighed on Will's shoulders like a stone. And Adam, James and Dom were all staring at him, clearly incredibly anxious about his reaction to whatever they were about to disclose. 

Then they handed him a plain, brown file. A file filled with crime scene photos.

"Should I be concerned that the victim looks remarkably like me?" Will asked, perched between the three who hovered around him like a new-mother. It was amusing to see them act so uncertainly, but worrying too. His muscle-bound protectors seemed intent of keeping him safe from the world despite the world being unable to touch him through the impenetrable walls he currently inhabited. It seemed the biggest threat to Will was Will himself if their anxieties were anything to go by. They were practically bleeding concern, saturating the air with the bitter taste of fear, nervousness and a forced bravado to try and mask it all. But Will was nothing if not good at what he did: and what he did was see through people like they were sculpted from glass.

It wasn't the Ripper, it was the new killer: the Casanova Killer, he believed was the name the press had used. Press being Freddie Lounds, of course. It was on account of the sexual component of his works, the flame haired woman had explained. His proclivities revolving around pleasure and expressing that pleasure spoke of his promiscuity, according to Tattlecrime.com. There had been more attempts at understanding just what it was that Casanova was trying to achieve and the reason he posed the bodies in the positions he did, but they were weak and fumbled awkwardly at the killer's psyche like a two teenagers pushing their hands into each others underwear beneath the bleachers at their prom. The whole thing seemed incredibly tasteless in Will's eyes - but then again, Freddie Lounds had always been tasteless to him. 

The most recent victim was another Beta male, but he had delicate features. Soft and smooth, he had been shaven by his murderer before he was staged; so there was a purpose behind the selections and a precision in the killer's motive. He wasn't picking just anyone, he had a singular focus now. The Beta's eyes had been a brilliant blue in life - not close to Will's own colour, but close enough for a chill to run down the length of his spine - and his hair was brown and curly. It had been longer than Will's when he was alive, but the killer had cut the hair to the appropriate length: a length that had been standard for him until two months previously. He was leaner than Will was, but having packed on muscle after having returned to kick-boxing, their body types wouldn't have been too dissimilar two months previously. It was like looking at a physical doppelganger. Someone had carefully selected the Beta and had then gone to great lengths to ensure it looked as much like him as possible. There was another man too, an Alpha, that completed the picture. They had been positioned before the beautiful old building that housed the Baltimore Philharmonic Orchestra. The Beta, Henry Dove, had been staged to lie across the steps that led up to the main entrance, naked as was Casanova's signature, with his mouth parted and eyes closed. He looked like a Greek statue, lounging gracefully in and serenely in place. Wine had been placed by his side, two glasses filled half-way. The Alpha, Gerald Stokes, a high-powered businessman from Ohio, was kneeling, head bowed forward and _worshipping_ the Beta before him. There was a reverence that resounded through the work, a sincerity that made Will uncomfortable, because as far as this killer was concerned, Henry Dove was actually Will Graham and anyone who knew Will could see that this killer was paying homage to him like a deity of old. But the location, too, was unnerving. A victim with his colouring, naked outside one of the building his -  _he_ \- frequented regularly. 

"You should be concerned," James responded quietly. "Not just because of where this kill is, and what the Beta victim looks like, but because this is what Stokes looks like." He pulled up the man's picture on the computer screen before them.

Will sucked in a breath, but it felt like all the oxygen had gone out of the room. The air felt stale and thin, unable to keep his lungs moving and as breakable as glass. It hung about him like a hesitant, living thing, newly-born, easily shattered and vulnerable. "So this is what you were hiding from me?" he asked, hoarse, shutting the file abruptly and dropping it heavily on the glass desk. He was unable to tear his eyes away, no matter how much he wanted too. " _Fuck_."

Gerald Stokes was a good looking man. With tanned, almost olive skin, that was lined with only the faintest of wrinkles; it was clear he looked after himself. Will would never have guessed he was in his late fifties. His hair was a dark, chocolate brown, that in the right light appeared nearly black; however it looked soft to the touch and easy to run fingers through. It had been restyled and gelled after no doubt being disturbed in the fight that had ended Gerald's life. He had a neatly trimmed short-boxed beard that made him look young and roguish, as well as a smattering of grey peaking through the brown of his sideburns. His eyes were green - that brown-green hazel concoction that was rare enough to be pretty but muddy enough to be taken seriously. He was muscular, clearly spending ample amounts of time on maintaining the mass that no doubt won him the attention of many. And Will, while seeing so many differences, knew _exactly_ who Mister Stokes was supposed to represent. The man had been selected very carefully after all. 

Will was the soft, gentle Beta; Gerald, the attractive, capable Alpha was _him_.   

"Do we know how Rafa escaped?" he finally asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the picture before him and ignoring a sense of panic that rose within him. He was proud that his hands didn't shake.

"Prison riot," Dom answered, pointing to a far right-hand screen. "He killed two officers on his way out, too. We've been tracking him, his kills, as soon as we found out he was loose, but even with our resources it has been difficult."

"He knows how the AOS works," Will muttered, "so he knows how to stay off the radar." He paused. "How'd he find me?" Dom shot him a look like he should already know. " _Oh_ , Freddie Lounds and  _Jack_ , I presume."

"You're still technically missing," Adam added, "and Crawford is annoyingly persistent."

"I wish he'd been this persistent about looking out for you," James said snidely, lips pursed and knuckles white across the bone as he clenched and un-clenched his hand.

"He probably saw your face on the news," Adam continued, throwing his brother-in-law a look. "And made his plans." He suddenly looked ashamed. "It was an outcome of your face being plastered everywhere that none of us were expecting. We were so focused on making sure you couldn't be connected to your Omega self that we forgot about the one person you've been hiding from." There was a pause where Will offered him a shrug - there was no point worrying about it now. 

"So you had me profile Rafa's killings?" Will asked finally, raising an eyebrow and remaining cool and collected. The three fidgeted uncomfortably. "He's been out a while."

"About six weeks," Dom nodded. "But after we found out, we didn't want to -"

"Risk sending me into another depressive episode?" Will asked, the humour in his tone only slightly forced.

"Something like that," James agreed, suddenly nervous about looking at him. Will sighed: it wouldn't do well to panic and it wouldn't do well to shut down. Rafa was his past. Maybe this time he could help stop him rather than relying on Adam. If Will was grateful of anything regarding Hannibal, it was that Rafa no longer affected him as much anymore. It still scared him, but there was an instinctive understanding that the Italian couldn't get him - because either his brothers' Alphas would kill him, or Hannibal would...although the probability of the later he didn't want to think about too much.

"So he knows about me," Will continued, sitting heavily "and judging by the threats I've seen in his kills, as well as where he's put that perverted representation of  _us_ ," he spat out the word like it was filth, "he knows about Hannibal too."

"He's baiting your Alpha," James agreed. "I did something similar against the Núñez Cartel - you poke them with a sharp stick until they get so angry that they're blinded by emotion and easy to dismantle. You have to wind them up, watch them tear themselves apart - that is what he's doing to Lecter."

Adam rolled him eyes. "You make everything personal, brother," he huffed, half amused and half concerned. "I thought Floridians were supposed to be _laissez-faire_."

"I thought assassins were supposed to look like Matt Damon," James shot back just as fast, "not a Mr Hyde version of him."

"Hey, I'm better looking than Matt Damon," Adam shot back. Will and Dom threw each other a look and then quickly avoided the gaze of their friend. "Aren't I?"

"Do you have any leads?" Will prompted, causing James to laugh boldly and Adam to splutter indignities.

"No. Local PD are stumped. Jack thought it was your Ripper at first but there are too many differences. The best information we have so far has come from your profile or, believe it or not, that fucking ginger -"

"Dom," Adam jumped in, still clearly put out about the rebuke from his brother. "Will gets it." 

"Well he's going to keep killing until Hannibal reacts or I step out from the shadows," the curly haired Omega muttered, almost to himself. "This is a threat to Hannibal but now I know who it is, I can understand that it's also his way of getting my attention, he is trying to be romantic."

"By butchering naked people?"

"The reason we... _separated_ ," Will said slowly, the word unsavoury in his mouth, "was because of sex, because of intimacy. I didn't want it, he did. Now -"

"He's trying to prove he'd be a good lover and, by extension a good Alpha," James finished. "Which means -"

"He knows about Alana," Will interrupted, ignoring the sharp flare that began burning in his chest at the thought. "So he's clearly done his homework."

"Do you think he'll go after her?"

"Not right away," the profiler answered, steadily, head tilting to the side slightly. "He'll use her as a," he glanced purposefully at James, "a sharp stick to poke Hannibal with. He no doubt knows that I'd prefer to kill her, even though logically I know she wouldn't have known."

"Still?"

Will barked out a laugh. "Oh, I'd very much like to kill her, and I'm sure I will some-day. I'm just, um, waiting for the right moment...I think." It was difficult to truly understand where he thoughts lay regarding Alana.

"Or you want to see if Hannibal will first," Adam clarified, seeing right through the blue-eyed man's intentions. "You want to see if he'll make an apology to you by killing her."

"He _is_ a killer, of some description," Will muttered, hand stroking lightly at his chin and unashamed at his complicated but persistent desire to see the woman dead. A flicker of something passed between the Alphas and Will knew that Rafa wasn't the end of the story. "There's something else," he stated, voice flat.

"Will," Dom began, a warning.

"Show me," he demanded. They tried to fight, but none of them could really say no to him, after all. James nodded once and pulled up the last Ripper kill. George Francis in all his glory filled every square inch of every screen: the anger and confusion soaked into every pixel. "That's the Ripper," Will said, tone light - speaking the way a parent might humour a small child, "not Rafa."

"You profiled this kill," Damien's Alpha began slowly, wrestling with the words as though they were a snake preparing to turn and bite him, "as an emotive reaction to a confusing situation."

"I did," Will replied, lips half smiling and still not understanding why his family was showing him the images.

"Would anything in your profile change if I told you that this man was killed approximately an hour after you left Doctor Lecter's house and approximately ten miles away?" Adam murmured, hesitant and unsure. Will's brow furrowed, knitting itself together tightly. 

"What has -"

And the scales fell before his eyes.

He sat forward sharply, nails biting into the leather of the chair, puncturing the skin and digging into the softness beneath.

"You have got to be fucking  _kidding me_." 


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Hannibal - although I wish I did - so all rights go to NBC and Thomas Harris.
> 
> Hannibal's back, hurray (or not hurray for the lovely people at home who have been rather upset with our cannibal so far)
> 
> Hope you guys like...
> 
> Another update: I have given my lovely writing pal, the crow outside my window, a name as he has clearly decided not to move. He's called Scipio (points for anyone who can see the link to our lovely fandom).  
> I have also discovered that Scipio likes eating satsumas (in pieces of course) because, why not?

"Rafa? As in  _Rafa-_ Rafa?"

"Last I checked we didn't know another Rafa, Mikey."

"Just give me a minute," his brother begged, sitting back, all his breath escaping him at once. He looked like a balloon slowly deflating. "Rafa's out, courting you with bodies and challenging your Alpha, who also happens to be the _Chesapeake Ripper_ , and your plan is to just wander out into the world and try not to get killed?"

"I prefer 'aid in Rafa's capture'," Will snorted, hand dragging through his hair, "but yeah, pretty much." He was trying hard not to think too much about the development concerning Hannibal. They had bigger fish. After Rafa was off the streets, he could consider what his mate being the infamous Ripper would mean.

"You're insane," Mikey hissed, shaking his head.

"Tell me something I don't know," the profiler returned and immediately his brother softened.

"I didn't mean that," he excused, but Will waved him away, already forgiving the man. "I just...I don't want to see you get hurt, Will. Both of these _assholes_ broke you."

"Careful Mikey, that's my Alpha you're talking about," he chuckled dryly.

"Will," his brother sighed, exasperated but trying hard not to let himself become angry at the situation. "You've only just started,  _interacting_ ," he began and Will tried not to laugh at the word. "What happened to you with both of them was awful..."

"Mikey," Will said, finally sitting forward and capturing the flapping hands of his best friend in his own. "Hannibal is a dickhead, there is no question. He's also a serial murderer who mutilates his victims. And while, yes, he is a dangerous predator that broke my heart, the Alpha beneath that cool exterior is as primitive as any other. And that Alpha, relying only on instinct, has worked out that I am made for him. Maybe Hannibal just thinks its lust, or refuses to accept that it might be love, but the monster knows. The beast beneath that Doctor's skin would carve out his own heart and present it to me if I asked. And, if it comes down to a bloody fight, Hannibal-the-man will give way to Hannibal-the-Alpha and I? I'll be -"

"Safe," Mikey finished for him. 

"I have nothing to fear from Hannibal other than him being an oblivious fucking idiot with a penchant for making me feel insignificant," he stated, ignoring the distressed whimper that broke free from his friend's mouth. "And Rafa - all this is to  _win_ me. Killing me would be counter-productive. They're only dangerous to each other. Hannibal plays mind games and until Rafa sees me choose Hannibal, until I wear the Doctor's mark on my neck, I'm safe from him too."

"And would you? Would you choose Hannibal?"

It was a strange question given everything that Michael knew about Rafa and about his mate, but Will understood what his brother was attempting to delicately bring up. Was there a future for him and his Alpha? Would, after this had all settled, he return to the Doctor's side? Rafa was not an option, in any life, but Mikey couldn't tell about Hannibal: Will was too unpredictable and too different for him to assume anything. 

"He's my mate," Will responded. 

"That wasn't my question."

They were sat in the garden, curled up beneath the oak tree that stood at the heart of it. His brother had brought a blanket to drape over them, but he found he didn't want, nor need, one. It was a rare, beautiful day. The wind was a little too chilled for it to be perfect, but between the lazy sunshine and the promise of emerging summer-time flowers, it was the best in a while. Will had been frankly stunned to realise he had hidden himself away for most of the spring-time like the disillusioned great-grandfather no one particularly wanted around at family gatherings. The grass was bright green as though someone had given up waiting for it naturally and thrown paint at the lawn, and anyone familiar with the outdoors could smell the heady summer looming ever closer. It always felt hazy and amber-coloured to Will, although that may have been because his hair turned muddy-blonde by the end of July and the freckles that his brothers never failed to tease him about broke out over his nose like an emergence of teenage acne.

The dogs were chasing balls thrown sporadically by the children and the adults. Ricky was nursing baby Jackson nearby, cooing in that new-parent mindless sort of way, with Tom watching closely over them, their black-haired twins piled on his lap. Dom and Brian lay tangled together on their own blanket, lost in each other, eyes occasionally drifting to their daughter who was engaged in a rather serious conversation with Winston by the looks of things. Levi was tossing a baseball with Adam, Cameron and Dylan, occasionally humouring one of Will's strays who would drop something at his feet to throw instead. Tiger and Beatrice were sat closely, drawing together. Damien's oldest girl, Katherine, was plaiting Amelia's hair; his middle daughter, Charlotte, was playing with Emily and the dogs and his youngest, Sophia, had curled up against his chest and promptly gone to sleep.

The sight had never been more domestic.

Before, he could have envisioned Hannibal so clearly in the picture. Chuckling that rough, exotic laugh that made Will feel safe, he would walk barefoot, sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows and offer a homemade _something_ from the Tupperware pot he had brought from their home. He would ruffle the heads of the children, and then the dogs, before making his way to Will, pressing a feather light kiss on the corner of his mouth and settling down beside him, fingers entwining instantly in that understated, smitten sort of way. Maybe he'd produce a book or perhaps he might be content to simply watch the young profiler watch his family. It would have been an easy peace, the one thing he longed for since before he could remember.

Now he saw a mass of black feathers stalk through the scene like an unwelcome phantom, flowers wilting as he passed while the low warning growls of his dogs echoed over and over as he approached.

"I don't know," Will finally answered, turning to meet the gaze of his brother. "I can't know, until I see him. I still love him, I know that. I know that I understand him: now as both Hannibal Lecter and as the Ripper. I know I'll never turn him in, despite knowing I should and despite it being against everything I stand for. I know that without him, I'll be alone. But I also know that he will be alone without me. I know he regrets kissing me, but he regrets Alana more. I know now that he feels for me the closest thing to love he can feel, and that terrifies him."

"Because you're a Beta?"

"Because I'm the only one who could catch him, who could expose him for what he really is. I'm the only one who could get close enough to see past the suits and the fancy house." Will paused, wetting his lips. "He's spent so long building walls that he didn't know what to do when someone finally managed to climb over them."

"So you got under his skin?"

"I did exactly what he did to me," Will replied, smiling gently. "I clambered into his mind, turned off the lights and moved all the furniture. What do people fumbling in the dark do?"

"Panic," Mikey admitted, humming slightly.

"And what do people do when they panic? They either run away and hide or..."

"Or they fight. He ran from you after the kiss and then tried to fight his feelings for you when he slept with Alana," the brown haired man muttered. The ache in Will's chest hurt for a moment. "So do you forgive him?"

"Forgive?" Will breathed out a ghost of a laugh. "No. No I don't forgive him. Maybe one day. Maybe after I've moved more of the furniture and watched him struggle. I understand _why_ , but that doesn't mean I like it. No, he has some serious grovelling to do if anything is to happen between us." Michael laughed kindly and nudged his shoulder, casting his gaze over towards his children, checking each of them in turn. Will knew his brother wasn't even aware he was doing it. A shrill laugh from Emily had the sharp gaze move to her, but it was only Adam blowing a raspberry on her stomach, and Mikey visibly relaxed at the sight.

It was the first time for many days that they had all been together, and were all so carefree. Will and the Alphas had been quietly scheming together, formulating the best way to approach the rapidly escalating situation and had therefore been avoiding the other occupants of the Compound. That was until Mikey, flanked by Brian, had stormed into their little security suite, fixed their mates with stares so hard they could have fractured steel, and demanded an explanation to whatever the hell was going on. They had given them half-truths about the Ripper and a new killer inspired and obsessed with Will before Will decided to tell them everything. No more secrets, he thought.

The day had a bitter-sweetness to it too. Will would be leaving the Compound the following morning. Their proposed strategies had resulted in many arguments between the five conspirators: Will would not accept some, the Alphas not others. It had been dizzying as they went around and around in circles. Then another body dropped and they knew that time was valuable and that they had been wasting it. It had been another tableaux of Alphas - the one victorious over the other - but the defeated man had been _obliterated_ , face broken and caved in on itself. Will had no idea what he was supposed to look like from the crime scene photos, the rage of his ex splintering the man's teeth and crushing his nasal bones flat. Clearly Rafa was tired of playing patiently. So, they had made a decision. 

There was no chance of Will returning to the FBI - at least not without the steadying presence of Jake; however all four of his brothers' Alphas accompanying him was the most likely scenario. That was a confrontation he would  _not_ want. But just because he wasn't returning to the FBI didn't mean that he couldn't aid their effort to capture Rafa. And the consultant on file as aiding in their effort: one Hannibal Lecter. With his Alpha and James, the least well-known of his in-laws, by his side as he assessed crime scenes, he would be fine to walk through and reconstruct just where Rafa was planning to go next. And if Rafa was drawn out by the sight of him, because Hannibal was by his side, then there was all the more reason to do it.

Will was a writhing mess of emotions and half-thought out intentions at the prospect of seeing his mate again but had buried the anxiety deep enough to not be noticed by those around him. He had smiled, lay across his brother and laughed when he was supposed to. That night he slept in a tangled pile of Omega limbs and while it was almost too-warm, there was something undeniably pleasant about the soft, flushed lines of his brothers pressed reassuringly against him. And Jackson slept through the night, awakening only slight-too-early as the sun dragged itself into the sky with a gentle whimper.

"Everything's set," James said, greeting him that morning, Damien tucked into his side. Will felt a pang of guilt at taking his brother's Alpha into danger, but Damien understood why and had, in fact, wanted James there.

"Because he can survive anything, and with him there I know you'll be fine," he had explained, pulling Will into a bone bruising hug. It still made him uncomfortable though. Especially as Dom and Adam would go too, as back-up in case anything should go wrong. Tom would stay behind with the Beta Guard to protect the Compound and its inhabitants, mostly as the birth of a newborn made an Alpha especially ferocious. He, despite Jackson being born months previously, could probably defeat both Adam and Dom at the same time with minimal effort. Will's beloved strays would of course be remaining behind too, so he made sure to give each special attention before he left, although Winston looked especially sad, tilting his head to one side and doing everything he could to trick Will into staying with his big, wide eyes.   

"You look ill," Adam muttered out of the corner of his mouth as Will clambered into the front seat, James taking the wheel. 

"I may be sick," Will confessed.

"Do you want to -"

"I'm not going back inside."

"Okay," he nodded, patting the roof of the jeep and giving James a wink. The black haired man blew a single kiss at Damien before he gunned the engine and shot down the drive. Will could hear the faint revs that told him Dom and Adam were following quickly behind. He dared not look back, certain that he might never leave if he did. Instead he focused on the story they had chosen. Rafa was insane and wanted someone to love. He and Will had dated briefly before Will broke it off. He attacked Will in anger, was imprisoned in a state facility for the criminally insane. He recently broke out of said facility and was trying to win Will back by dropping bodies. It was close enough to the truth that Hannibal should believe it, but farther enough away to give Will some flexibility in what he disclosed to the Alpha.

"The appointment is in an hour, so there's no time to second-guess," James said over the low hum of the radio. The man had booked an appointment with Hannibal under a false name, to give them a way to contact him without having to go through Jack Crawford or the FBI. Apparently James was having marital issues that had brought back unresolved issues from his past, or something like that. Will had tried not to laugh when he gave Lecter the reason for the appointment. However he had done just enough for Hannibal to say yes to a trial consultation.

He was going to be sick.

"Do you need to stick your head out the window?" James asked, easing off the accelerator slightly. Will cocked an eyebrow.

"Like a dog?"

"No," James insisted, blushing when he realised his words. "For fresh air," he muttered, shaking his head. Will laughed at his embarrassment.

" _Come on ladies, why are we travelling at 50? It's a 70 zone_ _!_ " Dom's voice crackled through the radio they had set up in the cars to stay in touch. 

"Everywhere is a 70 zone for you, you speed-freak," James shot back, chuckling, but obligingly picking up the pace.

"Don't race," Will pleaded as he saw Dom edge closer. The Los Angeles man only laughed in reply. 

The further they drove from the Compound, and indeed the closer they got to Hannibal, the stronger the pull in Will's gut became. It felt like a hook, behind his navel, that was tugging him to that one place where he  _knew_ his Alpha would be. He huffed out a breath and began rubbing his stomach tenderly. It only made the sensation worse. 

"Feeling paternal?" James asked quietly. "Or do you feel like your guts are being torn out with barbed wire?"

Will thought for a moment before shrugging. "Probably both, but at the moment, more the latter." It was clear James was surprised by his honesty but he smoothed out his face quickly. "Does it get easier?"

"Being away from your mate? No, not really," he confessed as they finally hit busier streets and were forced to slow. "But you learn that it doesn't matter how far you are away, they'll always be with you."

" _He ain't lying_ ," Dom chimed in and James spluttered. 

"This is a private conversation," he cried, affronted. The belly-aching laughter from the other end of the line made Will grin like a fool all the way to Hannibal's office.

The two in the car behind swung into a nearby parking space when they arrived while Will and James jumped from their four-by-four. Will had dressed similarly to his brother's Alpha: both wearing reasonably smart clothes: pressed shirt, his white, James' blue; tailored trousers, his black, James' brown; and a matching suit jacket. Will, however, had donned a thigh length coat over the top. He looked like a business man, he was sure, and that was the intention. No one would spot him in a crowd wearing the attire he did. They had also both donned sunglasses, although while James' made him look like an affluent stranger, Will's offered a barrier he desperately needed. Because he was going to see Hannibal again.

Will felt like he no longer belonged as he stood in the waiting room, back to the door and regarding a new art piece Hannibal had hung there. The place was opulent, of course, but Will had been living in an entire Compound of opulence and he felt more Omegan than ever. He felt unnerved, out of sorts, like he was going to meet an old part of himself long forgotten in the dusky folds of time. His eyes, hidden beside the black tinted glass, had not really focused on anything either. Before he would sit and soak in as much of the space as he could, daydreaming about anything that might captivate him. Now, the room felt blurred and he spent more time staring at the reflection of the door in the glass of the painting he stood before.

It was maybe a minute, maybe ten, but it could have even been an hour before the door swung open. 

"Good afternoon. Mister David, I presume," Hannibal greeted and Will's stomach muscles all cramped at once. He didn't move though. He could smell the man, his thunderous scent, from his place at the wall, but something was different. It wasn't as sharp, nor as intoxicating. It was... _dulled._ And for the first time since his quick exit-left, Will wondered how Hannibal had coped with his departure. Not the man, per say, but the Alpha beneath the man. If the change in his scent was anything to go by, the primal part of him had suffered.  _Good_ , the dark voice in his mind whispered. But it wasn't just his scent. Will could see in the poor reflection before him that the man looked older, too. The lines of his body were slightly sagged, the suffering he had seen all those months ago so evident, he felt as though it weighed upon him too. The usually bare jawbone had a smattering of stubble which told him he'd missed at least yesterday's shave. That had not happened before. His hair had greyed slightly too. Or, he had simply stopped maintaining the brown. He looked world-weary and the smile on his face was forced, there was no spring in his step, no amused curve of his lips. He looked defeated; he looked as broken as Will had been two months previously. Bile rose in his throat and he felt like crying. He bit his tongue until he tasted blood to stop the flood of emotions from drowning him.  

"Please, come in." He stepped to the side, allowing James through. 

"I brought my brother with me," James explained. "For moral support."  Will could feel Hannibal's hesitance, but at a silent gesture from James, he nodded and stepped into his room, wrong-footed after being urged away from the door. They would have to be  _inside_ the office before they could speak. Will followed them through, keeping his head bowed as James shut the door behind him. Hannibal was staring at them both and Will pulled his glasses from his face and met the wide, maroon eyes of his mate. 

"Hello Hannibal," he said, trying to keep calm, but completely unprepared for everything that came with seeing the man again. He had told Mikey he would know when he saw the Doctor how he would feel. But even now, stood before him, he couldn't tell. There was too much pounding at his head, clutching at his heart and twisting in his abdomen to effectively decipher thoughts.

" _Will_ ," Hannibal choked out, the word a breath and an exclamation all in one. The name took on a life itself, bounding around the office and off the bookshelves like an animal. It carved Will down to the bone and wrestled its way into his chest. It was everything he wanted, and everything he didn't. It was grief and anger; sadness and surprise; reverence and bliss. Hannibal took an unconscious step forward before something flickered across his face and he shuttered his emotions. The European swallowed heavily and tightened his jaw as his posture straightened itself instantly - and  _there_  was the Hannibal he knew. All focus and self-restraint. Will bit back a snarl of frustration but let his face show his disappointment. "I presume you are not Mister David with marital problems," he stated, turning to James with a forced impartiality that even Will's brother-in-law knew not to address. 

"No," the Floridian confessed, giving a small shrug, "but I  _am_  Will's brother. James," he said. Normally he would have held out a hand, but the black-haired man was clearly too focused on keeping Will safe, both physically and mentally, to remember his manners.

"Will never mentioned a brother," Hannibal returned, clearly looking for some evidence of coercion or sign that they were lying to him.

"We have a complicated family," James returned. Will snorted at that and the fondness in the eyes of his Alpha made his skin itch. Hannibal couldn't seem to look away; almost as though he were afraid Will would vanish if he did.

"I need your help to catch the Casanova Killer," the Omega stated, trying to divert the attention from himself and back towards the reason they had come there. His thoughts and desires might be a mess, but there was no change to the urgency of their situation. "And I don't want it getting back to Jack," he continued seriously.

"And you decided that I was the best person to aid you?"  He was clearly surprised by Will's decision, but thrilled too. His eyes lit up and a tiny ray of hope shone across his face.

"You know the case and," he paused, "we're a good team," he added begrudgingly. "Not to mention that he's going to target you soon if we don't catch him."

"Target me?" the man asked, standing slightly straighter. He was growing into himself, Will's presence like light to a cupboard-reared plant.

"You must have noticed the similarities between Will and the victims," James began. A sneer crossed Hannibal's lips; it was ugly and disgusted, but it vanished quickly. He was, however, unable to keep the disgust from his tone. 

"A less than poor replication," he practically spat. Will ignored the warmth bubbling inside him at the sentiment he was sure his Alpha was attempting to convey. "This killer is targeting Will directly?" Something dark lurked behind the man's eyes, ready to be called into action - ready to tear chunks off anyone who dared threaten Will. 

"The killer's real name is Rafa," James began, launching into the story. "He and Will used to date. Will broke it off, he ended up in a mental hospital and now he's out and -"

"Poorly serenading you with bodies," Hannibal finished, eyes not wavering from his former patient once. Will jerked his head in agreement. "And you have not informed the FBI because -"

"In our family, we like to do things ourselves," the Floridian smiled tightly. "If it comes to it, we'll bring in external help. Like now," he gestured to the man, "although it's also to make sure Rafa doesn't try and kill you," he added callously.

"And I am a threat to this killer because of the position I held in Will's life; a friend and a partner at the FBI." Hannibal moved behind his desk, straightening pencils and scalpels, desperate to find something to occupy his hands, but his gaze kept dragging itself over to Will. Even as he tried to fight it, he found himself looking at the Omega. 

James huffed out a laugh. "I think we all know why you're a threat to Will's former flame, Doctor," he said bluntly. Will felt his cheeks heat and turned away, ignoring the pointed stare of his mate that had fixed itself to the side of his face.

"Very well," the Alpha finally murmured, accent soothing to the flustered profiler, but too gravelly to really understand. 

"Good," Will began, clearing his throat loudly, "so you need to come with us. Now."

"I have appointments," Hannibal began, stunned. 

"Cancel them," the Omega shot back. 

"That would be rude."

"I know," Will replied, lips curling into a smile. The Alpha hesitated, sensing the test, before dipping his head accommodatingly. 

"Very well. If you will excuse me," he murmured, retreating away from the desk and through the door into the other room. 

Will glanced over to see James staring at him. "What?" he asked, voice low and hushed. 

"Your Alpha gives me the creeps," he shot back, deadpan. Will's eyes widened slightly at the choice of words but found himself smiling too. "I'm used to being the most dangerous one in the room," James continued, "and now,  _this guy_? He wears paisley for fuckssake." Will snorted violently, shaking his head. "And," he added, voice dropping finally to a level that Hannibal wouldn't be able to hear, "he doesn't look like a guy who would use a tongue as a bookmark? I mean, why?"

"Because he's a dramatic little shit," Will responded, eyes unwavering from the figure heading back over torwards them. It was clear he had been eavesdropping if the curiosity on his features was anything to go by. 

"Ready then?" James asked, clapping his hands together a little too excitedly, clearly masking his discomfort. 

"Of course," Hannibal replied smoothly. 

"Right," he nodded, heading towards the door.

"Okay," the profiler prompted, "let's go." He tugged at his coat and put on his shades.

"So, James," Hannibal began politely as he locked the door behind him, clearly scrambling for a conversation so Will would to speak to him. "What is it you do for a living?"

"I was a drug dealer," James replied and Will scowled, lips pulling back into a near snarl at the honesty. "But now I'm unemployed," he paused dramatically. "I married well." Will was practically spitting fire but the Alpha only shrugged. Hannibal turned to him, appalled but trying not to show it.

"Don't be snobby about it," Will snapped, temper flaring at both the need to cuddle close to Hannibal and his mate's disapproval. "So James used to be in the drugs trade. You kill people and mutilate them, you can't judge."

Hannibal missed a step.

He would have fallen had James not steadied him. His brother's Alpha was trying very hard not to laugh but Hannibal just looked as though he had stepped into an alternate dimension. Something flickered in his gaze, no doubt completely unconsciously, that Will recognised immediately. "Try and kill either of us, Doctor, and I'll have you strung up by your own intestines quicker than you can say Ripper." James stopped trying to hold in his amusement then, tears were pricking the corner of his eyes as he threw back his head and  _laughed_. 

"I told you," he finally said, nudging the Alpha as though they were fast friends and not new acquaintances, "our family is complicated."

"Come on," Will snapped again, ignoring the feeling spreading through him that could only be attributable to being near his mate. 

"Wait," the European's voice was rough, tired and broken as though his sense of self had been worn down and exposed. In a way, it had. He had half reached out to stop Will from turning, but held back just before he made contact. "You knew?" He almost sounded distraught at the thought. 

Will wet his lips. "I suspected from the beginning that you were... _that way inclined_ ," he began, "but I didn't know  **who**  you were until George Francis."

" _Will_ ," and there it was, that  _tone_  again. 

"Come on," he urged, uncomfortable with it all. "We'll talk about it later." And he turned on his heel and marched to the car.


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Hannibal - although I wish I did - so all rights go to NBC and Thomas Harris
> 
> Not many chapters left my lovelies. Thank you for jumping on my crazy train - I promise I won't push you off...
> 
> Some long awaited Hannibal/Will dealing with some emotions because you can't keep fucking denying you love each other fellas...
> 
> In other news, I have a Scipio update: for those of you asking, he sits on my window-sill or on the roof (I'm an attic room) and then flies off into the woods behind my house to eat, then he comes back. He tried to bring a friend back yesterday, but the crazy thing flew into my window like a throwback to Hitchcock, so unfortunately, Scipio remains alone.

The crime scenes had yielded little.

Even with Hannibal by his side, a paddle to steady him as he pushed himself to look deeper into Rafa's intentions, he still couldn't work out what the man's next move was. The Italian's mind had always been unusual to Will; it had been sticky too. But the Lithuanian's presence ensured he wouldn't bring anything back from his dips into his ex's mind. He felt unclean though. As though he needed a red-hot shower to wash away the ghosting, phantom touch of the Alpha that had thought himself Will's everything. But nothing had fallen free during their visits to the home of the Philharmonic and the sites of the Alpha tableaux: all of which were in and around Baltimore. It was frustrating, to know so much and yet so little at the same time. Rafa could go after Alana, Jack, any of the FBI technicians or he could wait for Hannibal himself. And while Will was not as bothered as he should have been about Alana or Jack, he did feel guilty about Bella, who would no doubt mourn the loss of her mate, and Beverly. In another life, he and the black-haired omega would have been good friends, he was sure. The same, of course, could not be said for the over-confident Alpha Zeller and the awkward Beta Price, but he didn't wish them ill. They weren't  _friends_ but they weren't bad people: they didn't deserve to be killed and staged by a man who still thought himself Will's mate. It seemed that their best opportunity was to see if Will's re-emergence into society would force his hand, or make him reveal anything. So far, there had been nothing. The most enlightening development had been Hannibal himself. Not once had his gaze or attention looked anywhere but Will. It was as though his Alpha was mankind and Will the fire stolen from Zeus himself. Hannibal couldn't stop himself; careful brushes against his hand, fingers, a spread palm in the dip of his lower back. Will wasn't sure if the man was flirting or reassuring himself that Will was there; it was just as confusing as Rafa.

He was tearing at the insides of his mind when James suggested they break for food - he had already sent Adam and Dom to book into the motel they had picked, he told Will quietly. It was too late for lunch, too early for dinner, but the growling in Will's stomach spoke of its emptiness and the fact that he'd eaten half a bagel and coffee for the entire day. So he nodded, weary, and trudged inside behind his companions. It was a diner, slightly too greasy and clearly not up to Hannibal's standards if the slightly alarmed expression on his face was anything to go by. 

"Oh just order," Will huffed, picking the heartiest burger he could with an extra side of curly fries. 

"Salad," the Alpha replied stiffly before remembering his manners and tossing a small smile to the waitress. She blushed, dropping her gaze in a silent attempt at flirting, but Hannibal had already turned to look at Will stretch out in the booth beside him.

"Burger too please, ma'am," James replied, winking. The girl bobbed a little before taking their menus and retreating with their order. "I got to use the head," James muttered, giving first Will, then Hannibal, a loaded look. "Eyes sharp, eh Doctor?" he added for good measure before sliding out of the booth and disappearing.

"Are you well, Will?" Hannibal eventually asked, body turned entirely to face him. There was no question of where the man's attention was focused.

"As can be," he admitted, knowing that ignoring the man wouldn't work. "I have a killer after me, after all. That doesn't usually encourage wellness."

"You look well," the Alpha returned gently, fingers absentmindedly straightening the cutlery set out before them at wrong angles.

"You don't," Will replied, finally turning to meet his mate's maroon gaze. "Bad dreams, Doctor?"

A half, reluctant sort of a smile curled its way around Hannibal's lips. "Bad dreams suggests sleeping, dear Will. I have been thus far unworthy of such a thing." It wasn't a surprise, given the faint blue marks hanging under his eyes. He looked so _weary_. 

"Huh," the profiler huffed, dropping his gaze and casting it out the window, into the car-park and _beyond_. Back to his stream with Winston by his side, casting his lines and enjoying the feeling of warmth on his skin.

He suddenly became aware of James kicking him under the table and he glanced up, startled at the appearance of his food. His brow furrowed but both of his companions seemed relatively unfazed. "Fishing?" James asked, squirting a healthy amount of barbecue sauce onto his plate and then rapping the bottom of the glass jar for more when it wasn't deemed enough.

"Yeah," he breathed, his head jerking in that half-nod that was more chin than agreement before turning to his own meal.

"So, Doctor," James said, focus, body and eyes all fixing on Hannibal, "I have to ask, how'd you get into it?"

"Excuse me?" the European replied smoothly, gingerly picking at his salad as though the thing might stand up and attack him. Although the lettuce seemed a little too limp for such a feat.

"Me? It was my best friend. Got cut up by his dealer. So I jumped in and ended up killing the guy. The cartel saw something in me I suppose, taught me the way the business worked."

"Then you killed your way to the top," Will finished, partly stunned they were having the discussion in a crowded diner, but also completely unsurprised by his brother-in-law's antics.

"Yes I did," he grinned proudly, tipping the milkshake he had ordered in Will's direction and taking a long, hearty slurp on the straw. Hannibal flinched slightly. "Left my second-in-charge the lot when I married. My other-half is all sorts of demanding," he continued and Will did laugh then because Damien was, but James would do  _anything_ for him. "I mean, don't get me wrong, Doctor, you scare the _shit_ out of me," he began and now Will felt like banging his head on the table, "but, your secret's safe with us," and then he winked. The Thoroughbred was an unmovable stone statue beside him and Will kicked his ankle in an attempt to get him to relax. "And heck, it's kinda pretty. I was always point, not pretty; ya know, horse heads in beds and all that sort of thing."  There was a pause. "I saw Mister Francis, and, uh, Jeremy Olmstead. Uh,  _Fasciculus Medicinae_ , if I'm correct? I always preferred the Zodiac Man myself - astrological medicine is the most fascinating - but each to their own."

"Indeed," Hannibal replied woodenly. 

"I'm trying to eat," Will sniffed, looking pointedly at his brother. 

"I'm trying to have a conversation with your... _friend_ here, baby-blues," James replied, grinning. 

"Call me that again and I'll dismember you," Will said without missing a beat. It had been Adam's nickname originally but James quickly took it up when they had first met. It was only used when he was trying to be both charming and annoying. For a former ruthless murderer, he was incredibly childish at times. Levi used it on occasion too, but coming from his younger brother just sounded sweet.

"So," James prompted, "what got you started?"

Hannibal's eyes flickered once to Will before returning to James. "Revenge," he replied. Something fell into place. 

"Mischa," the Omega breathed. Hannibal visibly flinched and Will was placing a hand over his before he registered thinking about it. James didn't push further. 

They finished the rest of their meal in silence. 

The ride to the hotel was quiet, each of them lost in thought. Hannibal protested at first, but a look from first James and then Will had him lapsing into silence. Deep down he knew it was safer for all of them if they stuck together.

James grabbed the keys for the two remaining rooms: one for himself and Will, another for Hannibal, Dom and Adam already settled in for the evening. The Floridian had thrust the spare clothes from their jeep in the man's direction, none of them questioning why he was aware of the man's size, pressed a key into Will's hand and stalked off for a shower, knowing full well that the Omega was going to be safe with the Doctor.

A single look at Hannibal and Will knew that they needed to talk. So he huffed out a heavy breath and followed the man to his room.

The place was seedy and unpleasant, but the last place a Thoroughbred, three Male Omega-Mates and a Male Omega would be expected to sleep. It was the kind of place that paid cash, asked no questions and saw enough overweight men with pretty girls to know that the pay-by-the-hour rate was used by the nearby hookers. The depressing concrete was cracked by weeds, littered with empty beer-bottles and, out of sight of the CCTV camera that was without doubt a fake, condoms - for those too eager to wait. The place felt slimy, with a coat of grease that permeated the air and saturated his skin. It was a den of sin, of infidelity, of drunk sex and regrets. Stained walls shielded by flimsy doors with flaking, fading green paint that reminded Will more of illness than fields. It called to the underbelly of America like a siren wailing in the dark. And Hannibal was clearly struggling with it all, refraining from touching surfaces and standing as far from the other patrons as he could. Admittedly he looked considerably out of place in his three piece suits, thick paisley tie and silk pocket square when those around him wore clothes that showed too much: either the long, long legs of the three too-young girls hovering in the corner sharing a spliff, or the bulging, sweaty stomachs of those eagerly looking at them.

The room was just as grimy, making his skin crawl. He had no doubt the man would refrain from sleeping, or perhaps choose to lie on his jacket and trousers. James' offer of clothes composing of more modest shirt, jumper and chinos. The walls were that hospital taupe which would have been soothing had it not highlighted the marks where the headboard had hammered against the wall and the cracks in the paint and plastering. He was uncomfortable, but it had not changed his mind. Will knew they needed a conversation. The revelation over their meal had surprised him, but there was still the anger simmering within him. “So we should talk,” Will said, tossing his coat into the chair, regretting it only slightly, and turning to face the man. “Seriously talk.”

“I know,” the man nodded, moving much more deliberately, as if at any moment he might move too quickly and make Will disappear, or the room might attack him.

“You’re an asshole,” Will began, rage welling up inside him, as though he had uncapped a fire-hydrant, the pressure spewing forth his emotions. “You made me feel special, you made me feel sane, you made me feel safe and then – nothing. Should I _not_ have kissed you, because you kissed me back Hannibal and I _felt_ how affected you were by everything.”

“No, no,” he said, stepping forward. “I _liked_ kissing you, I just –” he confessed before trailing off.

“What?” Will snapped. “You got scared? People usually talk about things like that when they get scared by them, Hannibal. It's what keeps relationships going. It's what couples do. Or did you not want that with me? Is fear just an excuse?”

“It’s not that,” the Alpha said, voice rising slightly. “Will, it wasn’t…” His hand was clenching, releasing, clenching, releasing in a mindless attempt to maintain control.

“What?!” Will roared, unable to keep his tone steady anymore. They were going to have everything out, right there and then, neighbours and situation be damned.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” the man shouted back.

Will scowled. “So to do that, you hurt me,”

“Will,” Hannibal pleaded, but Will was too angry to let him off with such a mediocre answer.

“If you can’t even –”

“I knew from the moment that you walked into Jack Crawford’s office that you were special," Hannibal began, exhaling the words in one long breath, as though if had to say them all at once before they locked themselves back up in the hollow of his throat. "I knew that you were talented and you had a knack for the monsters that made me dizzy with excitement. Those first few days, I was so curious. And then you asked something of me, do you remember?”

“I asked you to help me with Jack,” Will said slowly, letting his anger dim until it was merely a simmer beneath his skin. He would hear what the man had to say.

“You asked me not to let Jack Crawford throw you under the bus, to keep you safe as he hunted the monsters and pushed you to do the same," he continued. "And you looked at me with great, blue eyes and immediately I knew that my intentions, my _plans_ for you could never be." He paused then, as though unsure whether to carry on. He drew in a ragged breath and pushed himself to continue. "You know _what_ I am Will. And I had intended to wind you up, watch you go; to see how a mind like yours would work under the pressures of your job, under Jack's relentless pushing. Maybe I might find some amusement, but I was simply curious as to what might happen."

"You thought I might break?" the Omega asked. 

"At first, I hoped for it," Hannibal confessed. "You have a darkness beneath your skin you fight so hard to keep contained. I wanted to see that free, but I wanted to watch you work. You were -"

"A shiny new toy," Will croaked. Hannibal winced at the wording before giving a short, sharp nod. 

"But that moment changed everything," he muttered, speaking more to himself than Will. "I agreed instantly, with no thought to myself or the plans I had begun to prepare and put in motion. I agreed to keep you sane, Will," he met the curly-haired man's gaze, seeking out the blue eyes that saw too much. "To be your paddle, your guide when things became difficult. I agreed to help the one person I knew might be able to finally cage me; to protect you from the influences I had, not moments before, intended to let loose upon you. Why then, did I not lie? Tell you I would help only to turn on you later? I found myself  _incapable_ of it. I could not lie to you Will. And I was furious with myself, unable to understand how you had driven me to the precipice of my own destruction with barely more than a half-murmured request mere days after first meeting. Was it your mind, your beauty, your disillusioned way of seeing the world? All had intrigued me at first meeting, but I had met individuals more beautiful, more disillusioned. So it must have been your mind. But I found myself not harrowed at the thought of you loosing your gift, but of you ceasing to be _you_. You began to haunt me, Will. Days in your presence in the FBI, nights in my dreams. But it was becoming more and more difficult to deny my instincts and the need to keep myself safe. The monster knew you couldn't be allowed to live: not as you began to catch your killers so easily, wielding your mind with deadly precision and unparalleled accuracy. I knew I could not protect you from the Ripper, but it wouldn't be long before you tied a noose around my neck. Yet still I could not leave your side. The thought made my blood boil, dear Will. To war so completely with yourself is exhausting. I began to question who I was,  _what_ I was. My Alpha clamoured to see you, I missed you like an ache in my chest, but the monster had never been more frightened. The blackest part of me twisted in my guts and tugged at my stomach, making it clench and warp. I thought perhaps, over time..." Hannibal shook his head, conveying his struggle in the defeated lines of his frame. "Then you kissed me. It was wholly unexpected but far from an unwelcome surprise. In fact, everything within me quietened. The fight between my selves stopped. I was suddenly back on the lake behind my home in Lithuania, my mother and sister on the shore, waving, while my father rowed us back towards them, our catch in the cooler beside me. It was so peaceful and I, for the first time, wanted you more than I wanted anything. More than my liberty, more than the desires that fuelled my kills, more than the need to stand in the Norman Chapel in Palermo or regard Botticelli's  _Primavera_ **.** After so long of preserving myself, my life, to realise that I would throw it away for you, that frightened me. You were my downfall Will. Smart enough to uncover the truth; should we have pursued a romantic relationship, you would learn quickly that you could play me like a Theremin. You need not even touch me to have me singing. So I drove you away. I broke your heart and drove you from me." 

The man turned, as though looking at Will was physically painful and the profiler found his mouth open, then close again. He was completely at a loss.

"You could have made me do anything," he whispered again, "and like a long grass to the easterly wind, I would have bowed to you. It was something I could not allow. Your departure cut me deep. I was unaware of how flayed open I would feel under your incriminating stare. Shame filled me. I have never felt shame before, Will. But I knew it was right because while I wouldn't let the monster hurt you, I couldn't stop him from changing you. You would have been corrupted, for my purposes, before you truly understood just what you could demand of me. You would have been as dark, as twisted, and I would have whispered through the chrysalis, encouraged you to be my equal so you would never know that I was your submissive. I would have been Pygmalion and you the ivory carving, my fashioning a perfect version of you. But even that, I couldn't do. I couldn’t hurt you, Will. I couldn’t break you so thoroughly in the hope that you might reassemble in the way I thought you best." He huffed out a hollow laugh. "Probably as I knew, deep down, that there was nothing about you I _would_ change." He paused again. "But you knew. You knew and you pursued me anyway. You will keep my secret," he had turned back again, eyes wet, "so it was all for nothing. We would have -" he cut himself off before offering a sad smile. "I devistated us both for little more than a twisted need to watch something shatter."

There was a silence too fragile to break, but Will did, stepping closer and closer until he could feel the heat radiating off his Alpha. His scent was mixed with the salt from the tears tracking his face and his gaze was filled with sorrow. The profiler let his own pain, the emotions that had tormented him for months, bleed through until both knew  _exactly_ how lost they had been without each other. Neither moved, too busy memorising the lines of each others faces and Will felt the warm glow ignite in his core. Slowly, painfully slowly, Hannibal leaned down, folding himself into soft lines, and pressed his lips to Will’s. He was so gentle, patient, cautious. He pulled back, hands cupping the Omega's cheeks and thumbs suddenly wiping away tears that Will wasn’t aware he had been crying.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” he breathed, the words ghosting over his neck and seeping to his skin. The place where he had spoken them ached as though struck and Will barely kept back a sorrow-filled cry. “I’m sorry,” Hannibal said again, pressing feather light kisses to his cheeks, his nose, his jaw-line, even his eyelids after they fluttered closed. “I’m sorry. If I could take it back, Will, oh I would.” He was gasping, distraught himself and lost in it all. “I’m –”

Will cut him off, instead pushing up into the Alpha’s hold and capturing his lips with his own. It was a vulnerable, tentative thing, barely able to survive outside and chilled by the words still unspoken. But it was the calmest, most soul soothing thing Will had experienced in months. He felt light, made of nothing more than empty space and the heady summer air pressing against them. They were both crying silently when they pulled apart.  

"I can't," Will rasped, backing away and trying not to taste the man on his lips. "I -" his voice broke. He scrabbled for the door handle and gave it a firm twist, deliberately avoiding looking at the forlorn frame of his Alpha. "I'm, I-" Will choked on his words and fled from the room. 


	12. Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Hannibal - although I wish I did - so all rights go to NBC and Thomas Harris.
> 
> Okay my lovelies, stay with me, I'm pretty shit at these types of chapters, so be gentle...  
> \--- but if it's not at all your cup of tea, you can actually skip to the next chapter :)

Will thought long, and hard, about his conversation with Hannibal all of the next day. The man in question had not said anything about their heart-to-heart and James had not asked why Will had smelt of tears and _Alpha_  the night before. They had all taken up the pretence that nothing had happened and continued with their hunt of Rafa, driving to places Will thought he would most likely be and throwing their scents around to provoke him when they found him distinctly absent.

Yet he could barely concentrate.

The confession was throwing itself against the walls of Will's skull like a madman chained and unable to go anywhere else, but desperate to be free. Every time some new thought crawled in through his ear, it was polluted by the words that had made his mate weep so openly. And it hurt, to see someone he loved so broken by the world, but it hurt more because Will knew it was him. He knew the moment he smelt Alana and Hannibal that he could have revealed himself; he knew that while yes, in a way Hannibal had cheated on him so thoroughly, so wholeheartedly, they had shared little more than conversations and a kiss. Hannibal hadn't known that he was Will's _one_ ; and at that point was sure that his affections ran much deeper than Will's own. And after so long keeping himself in check, Will understood why he had chosen to act in the brash, mindless way he had. Fear makes people dangerous, and reckless, he knew. And from the reaction of his mate, the last time he had experienced true fear had not seen a happy resolution for Hannibal. The true story of Mischa was another pressing thought in his head. 

But could he forgive him?

He knew that every-time he saw Alana, he would remember what had transpired between the pair. He still had nightmares about discovering them together. But he had never seen Hannibal so exposed. So torn open and vulnerable. _Will_ had done that. Will had flayed the man down to the bone and hacked at his heart with clumsy, clumsy strokes of his hands. Hannibal may have spun his world out of control, but Will was certain know that he had  _decimated_ Hannibal's. If he had told the man then, after the kiss, _what_ he was, the Alpha would have understood - the pieces falling into place behind his eyes and they would have mated. No George Francis, no Alana, no two-month grief-stricken isolation... no  _Rafa._  It would have been the ending Will had always wanted. He wouldn't take the blame for Hannibal's actions, but every decision had consequences. His silence that evening had consequences.

He had been so wrapped up in what  _he_ would lose should the truth come out, he hadn't considered Hannibal. Hannibal would have lost  _everything_. His liberty, his life, his pleasures in the world -  _Will_. So he saved Will from his own instincts - from the self-preservation compulsions so ingrained into his psyche, that not his intellect, his poise or his Thoroughbred status could stop it. And that, while twisted in its own sense, proved to Will the one thing he had longed to be proven true: Hannibal-the-man loved him as  _him_. It wasn't just biology with them. He was loved as the awkward, anti-social Beta with a knack for the monsters. He was loved when he was unkempt, scruffy and smelling strongly of fish; when he snapped rudely at others, wore dog hair on his trousers and bared his teeth when he felt threatened. Hannibal - a Thoroughbred whose only fear was being caught - had fallen in love with the one man capable of catching him. He had signed his own death warrant because he knew that Will was too smart  _not_ to see what he was. Given time as they shared the spaces in each other's minds, the air in Hannibal's opulent rooms and the warmth in each other's beds, Will would have _seen_.

And Hannibal couldn't kill him.

Will understood, he thought, scrubbing at the tight knot in his chest uncomfortably and jumping from the jeep.

After another day of nothing, he felt worn out and useless.

And he wanted Hannibal.

And there it was, wasn't it: he _wanted_ Hannibal. He wanted the man like he wanted oxygen: so he could keep living. The man may have been his Alpha and therefore biologically perfect for him, but Will knew now, for him, there was little to do with instinct. He loved the way the man quirked his lips  _just-so_ when something amused him but the situation wasn't appropriate to laugh. He loved the timbre of his voice, undulating as it spoke of Europe with a passion that made Will wish to return. He loved the maroon eyes that could be so soft, but as hard as steel. He loved the ridiculously pretentious way he drank his wine, always swilling the glass first, always inhaling, and then letting his tongue out to wet his lips, as though to savour the taste further. Will loved the slight crease on his forehead that appeared as he drew, so focused that his face lacked it's usual composure. He loved the way Hannibal's face brightened upon seeing him, a full-bodied smile breaking across his features. He loved the patience, the passion, the silent jokes, the strength in his arms, the meticulousness neatness of his desk, the bow of his lips, the arch of his neck, his voice, his words, his -

He loved him so wholeheartedly, it had to be real.     

He was slipping past James and out the door before he even registered he had begun to move. Another night drawn to Hannibal's side like a moth to a flame.

Hannibal answered on the third knock. 

"Will," he greeted warmly, cautiously, stepping out the way. 

The Omega moved inside as Hannibal shut the door with a click behind them. "Are you... _in love_ with me?" he asked, slowly, deliberately, bluntly, turning so he could watch the man's reactions. For the first time, Hannibal didn't hide the emotions flickering across his face. His mouth opened, closed, and then opened again before his eyes turned sad. 

"Yes," he confessed, simply.

"If I asked you to turn yourself in," Will began, seeing the terse lines of his mate's frame sag, "would you?"

"I find myself unable to deny you anything, dear Will," came the reply. He looked as world-weary as Will felt.

"Okay," Will muttered finally after a too-long silence, "then Hannibal," he saw the man tense slightly, "I _forgive you_."

The air stilled and everything else faded away as Will stepped forward, placed one hand on his mate's cheek and the other curling behind his neck, and he kissed him as hesitantly as they had the previous day. 

The kiss was dizzyingly slow, tantalising and greedy all at the same time, neither one wanting to let the other go; neither wanting the moment to end. Will’s other hand reached around the man’s neck and was pulling him closer, forcing their bodies to align and  _oh_ , they fit perfectly together. Just as he knew they would. And Will, he wanted everything from the man. He wanted to join, merge, _mate_ , with the man standing before him. No more secrets, no more silences and no more consequences.

One of Hannibal’s thighs had found its way between Will’s legs slightly and the Omega threw back his head, groaning far-too-loudly when he ground against it. The Alpha was grazing kisses along his neck now, his hand dropping to the swell of Will’s ass and resting there long enough to state his intentions, finally, _finally_ , on the same page as Will. The other joined it, pulling him flush against his chest and forcing him to grind down again. Will was hard, so, so hard, and desperate with it. He didn't want to think how easy it all was - how a kiss and a mild grope was enough to have him mindless and eager. He was tugging at Hannibal’s shirt, pulling at it and staring as though the thing offended him. His Alpha chuckled warmly, but hastily tugged at the buttons under they came free and shucked the shirt from his shoulders. He was clearly as desperate as Will was.

Hannibal walked Will backwards until he hit the bed and he fell, but the Alpha followed him down. Will let his legs drop open, Hannibal immediately occupying the space, mouth growing more urgent. It was still tender, loving, but the passion was beginning to burn through his patience. The Alpha’s hands busily stripped the Omega of his shirt and had successfully undone the belt of his trousers, but he hesitated, pulling back.

“Will,” he asked, voice low and gravelly. He sounded  _wrecked_. But he was asking for permission. He would stop, Will knew, if the man asked it of him.

The Omega didn’t answer, only dragged his mouth closer so they could continue to kiss and jerked his hips upwards to allow the man to strip him more easily. Hannibal dropped his own trousers by Will’s, they both in their boxers now. Will took some pride in seeing that his Alpha’s were as damp and stained as his own. Although the significant tenting in Hannibal’s crotch told him his mate was as blessed there as he was elsewhere.

“C’mere,” he muttered, hands tugging at the band of his underwear, eager to see. His cock sprung free, weeping and swollen, it looked almost painful. It was also as big as Will imagined and suddenly his virginity was looming over him like an unwelcome observer, invading his thoughts and whispering doubts into his ears. Then Hannibal smeared his tip across Will’s thigh, groaning lowly in his throat and looking up through hooded eyes, and his nervousness vanished. He was built for Hannibal, after all. He pulled at his own underwear, letting his much more modest cock free of its cloth cage and arched again as it hit the air. His Alpha had found lube from somewhere and his hand was suddenly drenched in it. The man probably wouldn’t be able to tell that Will was slick.

The pad of his thumb traced over Will’s sticky and flushed hole, pushing in teasingly every so often and the profiler was slowly losing his mind. “In me, i-in me,” he chanted, canting his hips. Hannibal obliged, one finger sinking in to the knuckle as he squeezed another unnecessary blob of lube on the site. It was endearing, for him to be so careful, but Will was so drunk on pheromones that he didn’t want careful. He was an Omega – designed to be pinned down and  _bred_  by an Alpha as strong and as violent as he.

He was about to complain when two fingers pushed in, scissoring and opening him wider and wider. They were clearly searching for –

 _Oh_! Will scrabbled for purchase, mind turning white for a moment and his cock jumping as though shocked.

“Good boy,” Hannibal murmured against his flushed skin, taking a moment to lick a path from his hip to his straining, weeping cock and breathing hotly on the head. His fingers stabbed at his prostate again at the same time as he sucked down the purple head. Will came, trying to push himself further into Hannibal’s mouth, but a strong hand pinned his hips down and the man hummed contentedly, tongue dipping into the slit to tease out as much of the fluid as he could, eyes unwavering from Will’s as he did. His hair was a mess, rumpled and falling into his eyes, his skin flushed red and slick with sweat and he looked positively savage. Then he swallowed.

Will didn’t know what he tasted like but something flared in Hannibal’s eyes: a dark and possessive thing that screamed predator and another finger joined the two already buried deep within him.

“G-God, God, oh,” he choked, babbling.

Hannibal bit at Will’s hip bone, all gentleness gone and instead pure Alpha instinct. “Don’t give _H_ _im_  any credit,” he growled, crooking his fingers and grinning at the sight Will made. “Eyes on me, Will,” he ordered, twisting his fingers again before removing them with a deliciously wet sound. The Omega could feel his own slick and the lube his Alpha had soaked him in drenching his skin and the sheets below. Hannibal pushed his legs further apart, pupils now black with lust, thumbs tracing small circles on the inside of his knee. His cock jutted out before him, heavy and hot – Will could feel the heat radiating from it – and it was flushed a deep red, almost reaching the intoxicating maroon of Hannibal’s eyes. “Oh darling,” he crooned, the head kissing Will’s rim, which itself was now flushed a dark, violent red, and coated in slick and lube. “Deep breath now,” he ordered and Will, mindless and drunk on the scent of them both, nodded dumbly. And Hannibal eased inside in one long, smooth thrust right down to the root.

Will’s inner walls yielded like butter and he tossed back his head and let the Omegan cry that had been perched under his chin tear itself from his throat. The Alpha froze, gaze immediately darting to his neck. He leaned forward, snarling as that pushed him further inside his mate, and pressed his nose to the mating gland. And Will let him smell him.

The sound Hannibal made wasn’t human. It was all-consuming, frenzied and possessed by a need to  _claim_. Will cried again, a desperate thing that told his Alpha he was in  _need_  and oh, he was sure his mate was rutting in response to the sound.

“Omega,” he snarled, all intellect and good manners, togetherness and all signs of the man disappearing; there was only the primal monster left. He bit at Will’s throat and began jerking his hips, all uneven thrusts and choppy movements. It was good, so good, but not deep enough. He wanted Hannibal to crawl inside him, to consume him, to burrow so deep there would be no chance anyone would question just who either of them belonged to.

“Y-Yes, yes,  _yes_ ,” Will chanted, choking on moans and mewls and sobs of pleasure that seemed to breed in his throat. Will was hooked on the experience – the relentlessness of Hannibal’s thrusts, the flex of his thighs as he drilled him, the sharpness of his hip bones as they snapped against him – and it made him so, so eager. “Come on, come on, come  _on_ ,” he said, rolling his hips in tight circles and encouraging the Alpha to come – to  _knot_. “Yes,” he begged, “ _Alpha_.”

And Hannibal sunk his teeth into Will’s neck.

His teeth drew blood and Will’s gland gave like butter under a hot knife. He came again, hard, violently, body trembling and spasming. Hannibal snarled into his neck, unwilling to relinquish the bite and kept Will pinned with the bulk of his mass. The Omega was sobbing, sore and overstimulated, but desperate for the one thing that would bind them together and cement their bond.

A gurgle was resonating in his throat as he was jerked around like a rag doll beneath the black-eyed creature above him. “Please,” he begged. “ _Please_  Alpha,” Will cried, fat tears rolling down his face, frantic for his Alpha’s knot. He was too strung out to last much longer. A predatory rumble was building in Hannibal’s chest, reverberating through Will, and finally,  _finally_  his knot began to grow. Immediately, his hips began making little abortive movements to try and accommodate the stretch. It was swelling quickly now and Will realised it hadn’t pushed past his rim, only teased it with fleeting kisses. “No,” he gasped, muscles cramping in fear – it had to be  _in him_. The teeth at his neck bit deeper and he tightened around the unyielding length buried within him. He felt hollowed out; carved open by someone who had finally made room for themselves with the sole purpose of staying there. Hannibal’s knot pushed at his rim again, eager, hot, hard, it was like a fist pummelling at the thin, delicate skin. An impatient grunt and a forceful shove that saw Will shoot up the bed had stars erupting behind his eyes, he finally accepting the knot. The Omega’s body seized, another orgasm wrung from his weary frame. Hannibal’s body tensed, finally locked inside and he released Will’s neck to snarl in pleasure as ropes and ropes of come flooded the smaller man’s insides and drenched them thoroughly. Will instinctively clamped down, causing another growl and more come to be dumped within his body. His abdomen looked bloated already and the idea of him being bred made his cock give a faint, exhausted twitch.

There was a tongue lapping at his neck, broad, flat and rough and it took Will a few moments to realise that Hannibal was cleaning the ragged remains of his mating gland. The Alpha had been more than thorough in the claiming, ensuring that Will was his and his alone. It would be a while, he knew, before the man he had fallen in love with would return to the surface. Ruts weren’t common, nor were they long, unless they were in response to an Omega’s heat. It tended to only occur when the Alpha lost all control. In many cultures it was seen as a juvenile thing, something that expressed the baseness of humanity. A savagery that Alphas should learn to be above.

Will, however, was not complaining.

It was maybe ten, maybe twenty minutes later when the man draped over him stopped lapping at the wound on his neck and pulled back slightly as though stunned at how he got there. “Will?” It was a question laced with surprise and alarm.

“Hi,” Will shot back, tossing his a lazy smile, too blissed to really move. Worry flittered across Hannibal’s face then.

“Are we  _knotted_?” he choked out, clearly on the verge of panicking and the expression began to break through the sunny haze of Will’s lingering pleasure.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, curious as to why the man’s eyes had widened to big, frantic maroon saucers. “You good?” he asked, shifting slightly and sighing when the man came again.

“Me?” the European asked after he had stopped twitching, voice climbing an octave, “you’re the one on my knot,” he hissed.

“Uh-huh,” Will nodded, smile curling his lips.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Hannibal cursed, one hand coming up to the ragged mess that was his neck. “I attempted to claim you,” he breathed out in one long exhalation and Will narrowed his eyes, clocking the terror still present on his Alpha’s face and the rather unusual choice of wording.

“You’re breathin’ through your mouth,” he slurred accusingly.

“Of course I am,” Hannibal snapped and Will chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“Sniff me you crazy cannibal, and then go to sleep,” he demanded. “I thought you were supposed to be clever.”

“Will this is  _not_  the time to –” He stopped abruptly, mouth falling open. “ _Oh_ ,” he murmured, voice small and soft – vulnerable. “You.”

“Me,” he huffed, eyes fluttering closed.

“Wait,  _cannibal_ ,” the man said, brain finally catching up with his words.

“Uh-huh, I know you eat people,” Will agreed, now much more aware, but still not opening his eyes. “It’s a bit archaic, but not uncommon in our history. We mate the worst of the worst after all. Kuno, who was a scribe before his presentation, mated a Chief named Aldric the Bold and wrote about their life together. Aldric ate the Chiefs of the tribes he conquered and he would serve their families to his strongest men. But Kuno was always given the heart of every kill which he would either eat himself or gift to others." He paused. "I did a little research when I first realised. The others aren't aware though; baby steps, I thought.”

There was a long, heavy pause, weighted with much more than Will's revelation.

Then Hannibal leaned forward, lips brushing reverently against Will’s own. “You are truly remarkable,” he breathed. The Omega did let his eyes open then, and he saw that his Alpha was crying. Silent, wet tears rolling down his face that he didn’t seem totally aware of.

“You never expected to mate, did you?” Will asked quietly, hand reaching up to trace the wet paths marking his features.

“No,” Hannibal confessed, “I never expected to want to either.”

“But you want me,” Will pressed, hands pausing in their exploration, suddenly incredibly unsure.

Hannibal’s whole face contorted into something awed and smooth, as though Will was the sun and he could barely look at him, turning into Will's palm instead and pressing a kiss to it. “I have never wanted anything more, my love.”

“Because I understand you?”

“No, love, no,” Hannibal croaked, wrecked with the emotions he had spent so long fighting, “because you make me whole…and because you finally make me understand myself.”


	13. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Hannibal - although I wish I did - so all rights go to NBC and Thomas Harris.
> 
> Phew - glad the last chapter's over. I'm pretty shit at writing intense smutty scenes haha. So apologies to those used to better writing haha. In case it wasn't obvious, I'm a slut for a crying Hannibal, lol. 
> 
> Anyway, so it seems that the cat's out the bag, Hannibal's in love, they're mated FINALLY and Rafa's still on the loose...
> 
> Quite a few chapters in quick succession here. I'll try and get both fourteen and fifteen up before Monday morning *straps self to the desk*  
> 

"For fuckssake," a voice said, dragging him from his slumber. Will cracked open an eye and saw Adam stood in the doorway, arms folded and nose wrinkled. 

"Hi," Will smiled, coyly and languidly stretching. 

"What happened to talking?" Adam asked. "It smells like a brothel in here." 

"I've found I prefer fucking," Will shot back, turning slightly and poking his Alpha awake. "Hannibal."

The man murmured something in Lithuanian before his eyes fluttered open and met Will's questioning gaze. It clearly took a moment for his brain to catch up but then a brilliant smile stole over his lips, features going soft and gentle. His finger came up to trace Will's face and his smile seemed to get even brighter.

Before it vanished and he turned, lips peeled back and  _snarled_ at Adam.

"Woah," the former assassin said, raising his hands in surrender immediately, clearly not expected the predator to defend Will so viciously. He looked positively frightening, especially with Will's blood still caking his gums and teeth. 

"Hey, hey," Will hissed, sitting up and pressing a kiss to the man's neck, immediately silencing the rumble in his chest. "Step away from the lizard brain for the moment," he began. "Don't you recognise him?"

It took Hannibal a moment. "Adam O'Dare," he said roughly.

"He's mated to my brother," Will continued, "so he's _my_ brother."

"Speaking of mating," Adam continued, jerking his head. "You put him through a meat grinder?" Hannibal had the good grace to blush, but didn't dignify the blonde-haired man with a response.

"Hey," Will interjected, "do you mind giving us a minute?"

"Says the guy who used to walk in on me and Mikey to ask where the TV remote was?" Adam laughed.

"I will ride him like a horse right now if you don't leave," Will shot back ignoring the indignant splutter from his mate and Adam's crimson red cheeks.

"Hurry up," Adam said, turning and heading out the door.

"Can't rush a knotting!" Will hollered after him, laughing when the man groaned, embarrassed, before disappearing from view. He looked back at Hannibal, covered sheets pooling around his hips like some Greek God carved from marble. "Hello," he greeted again, smiling at the fond expression on the killer's face.

"Hello, _mylimasis_ ," he murmured, hands unable to stop themselves from reaching out and touching the mark on Will's neck. "Does it hurt?" he asked quietly. 

"Nuh-uh," Will said, shaking his head slightly. "S'good," he continued, crawling closer and draping himself Hannibal's chest. "You know we're like _together-together_ , now, right?" Will began, voice muffled by the Alpha's arm. 

"If you mean that our relationship transcends the loose ties of marriage and that, in my eyes and the eyes of the law, we are bound to each other in every way, then yes, my love, I know," Hannibal chuckled. "Although I should probably still marry you."

Will sat up sharply. "That better not be a proposal Mister."

"Doctor," Hannibal corrected, smiling at Will's expression. "Would you be so adverse to it?"

"No," Will snorted, "I just don't see you down on one knee." Hannibal laughed, eyes lighting up in a way that made the Omega feel weak at the knees. He would have swooned had he not been laying down.

A loud knock at the door had him sigh.

"We're _coming_ ," Will shouted. 

"You better fucking not be," Adam shot back, causing both of them to giggle like teenagers and finally, finally drag themselves from the bed. It was strange, to be completely naked with Hannibal, not bothering to hide his Omega scent, a scent which - 

"Hey," he said, "what do I smell like?" He was curious to see which of Hannibal's scent markers he had inherited with the bonding. 

If Hannibal was surprised by the question, he didn't show it. He thought for a moment, taking in a big breath and almost savouring the air. "There is a sweetness to your scent, like vanilla, but something with it, a hint of cinnamon perhaps. Yet you smell of something soft and warm too, like old blankets and the fires you so adore. But underneath it all, at the heart of you, you smell like the forests behind my home after the downpours my sister and I used to love so much: fresh, clean and natural." The man paused, gauging Will's reaction. "You smell simply divine, my dear."

"That last one, the rainstorm," Will explained, "that's you."  Hannibal looked confused before realisation smoothed out his features.

"Our mating," he realised.

"Uh-huh," the Omega nodded, stealing a kiss before turning away and jumping in the shower. He heard the Alpha huff before he joined him. They swapped kisses as they washed, but it was all chaste, their situation not entirely lost on them: Rafa was still at large after all.

"This Alpha we hunt," Hannibal murmured beneath the spray, still managing to look dignified despite his hair sticking up in different directions and matted with shampoo. "He is aware of your true status."

"I was twenty-two," Will began softly, smiling at the picture his mate made, "and we met on holiday. I thought he might be my Alpha, but I never really felt any _urges_ towards him. Eventually he grew impatient. He tried to force me." Hannibal's face turned murderous and he stepped closer to Will, as though the rogue Alpha was loitering outside the shower cubicle and waiting for them. "Adam stopped him," he continued, pressing his body against the warm lines of Hannibal's own. "He was incarcerated."

"And you became a Beta," the European realised, eyes dropping to scan Will's face. The profiler nodded. "Then how did he find you?"

"Jack's manhunt," he responded bitterly. "The bastard saw me on the news." Guilt crossed the Alpha's features but Will nudged him and they finished their shower in silence.

They saw Adam had laid out clean clothes, as well as a skin coloured plaster to ensure no-one would see the fresh-bite on the side of the curly-haired man's neck. Hannibal growled at the sight of Will covering his mark but the profiler reassured him with a kiss and they stepped out of the room. It was a little too bright, despite being relatively early in the morning, and Will groaned, fishing out his sunglasses from his pocket. All three of his brothers' Alphas were waiting, coffees in hand, with two spare for the newly-mated couple.

"Mornin'," Dom said, a shit-eating grin on his face. It was clear they could smell exactly what they had spent their evening doing. The very fact it had been Adam, not James, that woke them, told Will that; but he hadn't expected Dom to be bold about it.

Will groaned. "Hannibal, these are my brothers-in-law," he introduced, "James, Damien's mate; Adam, Michael's mate; and Dom, Brian's mate." He paused again, accepting the coffee with a grateful smile. "Former leader of a drug cartel, former freelance assassin, beat a man to death with a wrench," he listed before gesturing to the man behind him, "the Chesapeake Ripper."

Dom barked out a laugh. "Good t' know," he smiled, toasting his coffee to them both before tossing a wink at the pair.

"Worst of the worst?" Hannibal said out the corner of his mouth, humoured by Will's liberal approach to their pasts. The Omega shrugged, snorting lightly, before practically inhaling his drink.

"How are we on the Rafa front?" Will asked and immediately James jumped into action while Adam began passing him food from a bag that appeared from apparently nowhere.

"Well we've spotted that smarmy bastard," he replied as they began to walk to the four-by-fours. "He was caught on CCTV across the street from Lecter's offices." Will growled lowly around his muffin, causing mild amusement to those around him.

"This killer has only grown bolder," Hannibal stated, "and will no doubt escalate his timeline should be realise the _development_ in our relationship."

"Development meaning where you bit him through to the jugular," James asked, eyebrows raised. Hannibal's expression was less than impressed. "Yup," he said, turning to Adam, "guy still scares me."

"Okay," Will said, taking control and ignoring the laughter from his in-laws and the smug pride radiating from his mate. He turned to his best friend's Alpha. "Where would you go? If you were trying to court Mikey, what would you try?" He was out of ideas. The crime scenes hadn't given him anything and he needed a new perspective. He needed to stop thinking about the man as Rafa from all those years ago and start as the killer he was now. Deranged, dangerous and desperate for an Omega.

"I don't need to court Mikey," Adam replied before furrowing his brow, thinking hard. "I suppose I'd take him to the place he felt happiest, the place he felt most comfortable."

"Yet so far Rafa has only passed through the places that have significance to me, to the places I feel comfortable," Hannibal said, mouth and mind wrapping themselves around the words. He was unsure too.

"Because he assumed Will would be there," Dom jumped in, his tone more questioning than a statement, but it clearly helped Hannibal. 

Something went off in the European's mind. "Tell me, dear Will. Does Rafa know of your love of fishing?" he asked, his maroon eyes serious and unwavering. 

"The  _stream_ ," Will realised, turning to his brothers. "The flat fields behind my home," he said, "he's there." He had never been more certain of anything and suddenly it all made sense. Rafa was attempting to prove he was a worthy Alpha - more worthy than Hannibal at the very least. He hadn't gone to to the places that Hannibal frequented because of his assumption Will would be there; everywhere he had gone that Hannibal loved, he had left a mocking tableaux. Where he left pleasure struck Betas and happy Alpha/Omega couples, he had been in woodlands, based in nature. He mocked Hannibal and brought pleasure to Will. It made sense, now that Will considered it. There was no other place Rafa would hide as there was no other space sacred enough to Will to warrant his presence.

He should have seen it before, when they had walked the scenes, but the concept had alluded him. But it didn't now.   

It was clear they all knew how sure Will was because there was suddenly an urgency about them and Adam took charge. "Okay, right," he said and Will knew immediately that he was going to say something he wouldn't like. "I'm call the Compound and have Jake and some of the Beta Guard come to collect you."

"I'm sorry,  _what_?" he asked, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline in disbelief. "You're joking."

"I'm not," Adam shot back. "You're in danger now."

"I'm in the same danger I was yesterday."

"No," James cut in, "yesterday you were unmated, now you're marked. You said it yourself, you were safe from Rafa until he saw you marked by Hannibal. You've been marked by Hannibal."

Will could feel the anger rising within him. "Will," his Alpha interjected, pulling him slightly to one side. "I understand wholeheartedly your desire to see this through, and to ensure that this man is brought to justice for his crimes, but I cannot help but agree with your brothers. While I wish to be separated from you no more than you wish to be separated from me," he added, smiling at the flush that spread across Will's cheeks, "newly mated Alphas are at their most dangerous. If we are to ensure he is detained, it is best you return to a place of safety while I accompany the other Alphas."

"I could help," Will whined slightly, irritated at being sidelined. 

"Without a doubt," Hannibal soothed. "You are a ferocious thing, my darling. A force to be reckoned with, but your presence might cause Rafa to react unfavourably and, if we are all focused on keeping you safe, he might slip away." The logic was sound, made worse by the fact it was his own words they were using against him.

" _Fine_ ," he groaned, displeasure rumbling in the back of his throat. He turned back to Adam. "Fine," he said again. 

"I  _l_ _ike_ you," Adam smiled at the Doctor, pulling out his phone. "I'll get Jake out," he added before turning into the phone. "Hey beautiful," he crooned as Mikey answered. "Can you send Jake and Will's team out to collect him...oh, no he's fine...Mikey, hang on, hang..." he pulled away, rolling his eyes. "Talk to your brother."

Will snorted and took the phone. "Hey Mikey," he greeted, leaning into his Alpha slightly and humming contently as an arm wound its way around his waist. 

" _Oh my, **Will**_ ," Michael shouted down the phone. " _You're singsonging_ ," he practically squealed. " _Tell me_ -"

"I'll tell you when I get back," he said, over-enunciating and trying not to turn beet red.

" _You better,_ " he snapped, eager and reminding Will of their first conversation all those months ago when he had breathed the words  _I've-found-my-Alpha_ like a prayer. " _But just tell me, is he good?"_

Will saw the tips of Hannibal's ears turn pink and his lips twitch but he kept his face impassive. "Uh-huh," he said, voice weighted and laden with innuendo. "Catch you later."

" _Lucky bastard_ ," Mikey muttered, but his tone was warm, happy and clearly aware of how content Will was. 

"He's sending people," Will admitted, handing back the phone. 

"You two gossip like sixteen year old cheerleaders after one has had a romp under the bleachers," Adam said, rolling his eyes. 

"Careful O'Dare, this cheerleader knows  _quite_ - _a-lot_ about your romps," Will returned.

"Sassy bastard," Adam replied, flushed. The arm around his waist tightened and he leaned up to drop a quick kiss on his Alpha's lips before pulling away and jumping up to sit on the bonnet of their nearest car. Hannibal followed him loyally, standing between his open legs.

"How you doing?" Will asked, tugging on the corner of his Alpha's jumper. 

"More than good," the man returned. "I must admit I was not expecting this turn of events."

"My being a Male Omega?" he chuckled. 

"Indeed." Hannibal paused. "A Prince," he added, "outranking me in both dynamic and title." Will must have furrowed his brow because the man smiled gently. "In Lithuania, I am known as Count Hannibal Lecter VIII," he explained. 

"Huh," Will replied, "well technically you're a Lord now. All Alpha-Mates take the title of Lord after mating." There was a pause where Hannibal was simply studying the man before him, smiling softly as though dazed. 

"You remarkable creature," he finally said, making Will blush from the tips of his toes to the tops of his ears. And wasn't that what it was supposed to be. All thought of Alana, of the struggles they had endured were gone, lost to a blurry, grey period before the brilliance of their mating. He felt as though he might overflow with joy, the warmth spilling out and over him, like he was constantly being embraced. He could feel their bond like a presence in the back of his mind - a thread connecting him to Hannibal, a powerful, golden  _glowing_ thing that he would mull over occasionally, marvelling at its strength. He had never felt so complete, so happy. The world had been muted, now everything was in high definition. He wanted to be beside Hannibal, either walking, eating, cooking, reading, working - everything, he wanted everything. It was a simmering, constant need to be around him that was sated with a single look. He loved the man and he felt so loved in return. There would be little that could break them apart - he wondered if death was even possible, sure that the man would defy it for him and he would certainly do his best to defy the reaper for his Alpha. The man felt like home.

Will would follow him anywhere, should he ask. His past didn't matter, his proclivities didn't matter, the monster beneath his skin was of little concern to Will now. He had finally, _finally_ found his home.

"Thank you, _Alpha_ ," he teased, enjoying the way his mate shuddered slightly at the word. 

"Insatiable thing," the European tutted, pressing a kiss to his soft curls. It was twenty minutes before he pulled away, turning as another car entered the lot.

"Jake," Will greeted as his friend disembarked, a Beta driver he didn't recognise remaining in the car.

"Sir," the man nodded, smiling at his charge's infectious mood, before turning to the Alphas. "Ready to go when the Prince is, my Lords."

"And we are ready when Will is," Dom returned, pushing away from the jeep - finally glad they could go.

"Okay," Will murmured, pulling the Doctor in for a lingering hug and happily accepting the kiss he was offered before Hannibal walked him to the car. The man shut the door behind him, nodding in greeting at the Beta sat in the seat next to Will. He had kept hold of his mate's hand through the open window and squeezed it gently when he returned his attention to him. "Later," the Omega asked.

"Of course," Hannibal nodded, pressing another kiss to his knuckles.

"You catch this bastard, alright?"

The darkness flooded the Thoroughbred's gaze. "Anything for you," he promised, before backing away and watching them speed out of the lot. Will was delirious with it all when he turned to Jake.

The man laughed, patted his knee once. "It's good to see you finally happy, sir," he confessed, before turning his eyes back towards the road as they ate up the miles.

Will's thoughts were occupied only with Hannibal, the green trees, the blue sky, the bright sun all paling in comparison to his Alpha. How he had thought he could live without the man - live without the pleasures of being mated and without his mate, was beyond him. He was finally whole. He wanted to tell Mikey all about it, he wanted to be at the Compound already.

"Hey Jake," he began, "can you -"

Will didn't finish his sentence.

Will heard the squeal of brakes. A piercing, ugly sound that made the hair on his arms stand on end. Then they were defying gravity, his stomach lurching, plummeting downwards even as he flew upwards. The seat-belt bit painfully into his skin, a bruising sensation as his lungs went one way and his ribs didn't. They hammered hard into bone, forcing out all air and making them feel like thin balloons: easily punctured and frail.

He heard something crack.  

He wasn't sure when they stopped, when the car finally ground to a halt, the grating of metal on tarmac finally ceasing, but there was glass around him and black spots before his eyes when he opened them. He was choking, hardly able to breathe, and his hands felt numb and useless. There was a hand reaching out that scrabbled around at his side and suddenly he was falling forwards, smacking into concrete and the twisted remains of the car's roof, which had torn as easily as the wrapping paper he used for the children at Christmas. His head bounced off something unyielding and blood filled his mouth. He groaned, biting back bile and the overwhelming stench of oil and rust - and blood, but he didn't know if it was his own. He tried to look over his shoulder, struggling for a few moments before being greeted with the sight of a mangled corpse - face collapsed in on itself and bright-red blood tacky on his suit.

Panic rose in his chest.

"Will," a voice whispered, urgent but hazy, as though Will were listening through a fog. It was Jake, injured and bloody but alive. "Will," he tried again, hand touching his wrist. He was checking his pulse. A screech of something and one of the doors was pulled free, light flooding in violently, eagerly, insistently. It blinded him. " _You_ ," Jake swore. Will saw him reach for something but a single gunshot rang out, the sound bouncing off the metal shell he was trapped in and deafening him.

Jake slumped. Still. 

Footsteps over crunching glass.

Another yank, a shove, then a hand wrapped itself around his arm and heaved. Will grunted, crying out in pain as parts of him began to _burn_. He scrabbled feebly to try and stop the man, but the agony was unrelentingly, carving through his body and he barely managed to hold onto consciousness. 

"William," a voice said. And Will knew that voice. He half turned his head, sobbing slightly at the fire that ripped down his spine.

Rafa.

The Italian's eyes zeroed in on Will's neck. He knew the thin plaster had come free and his mating bite was open, visible to the world. He looked up into the endless, black eyes and a distressed cry tore itself from his throat: an Omegan response to summon his Alpha.

The man snarled, feral and violent, before swinging something, probably the butt of his gun, down in a harsh arc.

Will fell silent instantly. 


	14. Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Hannibal - although I wish I did - so all rights go to NBC and Thomas Harris
> 
> Deep breaths my darlings...
> 
> There are quite a few triggering things in here: forced drugging, self-encouraged vomiting, some mild torture, a lot of blood and some gruesome bits too, so be aware my lovelies, I don't want any unhappy campers.

He woke to fire and pain. 

Every muscle was burning, every sinew screaming and there was a sharp, piercing sensation in his head, as though someone had clambered inside his skull and torn it apart from the inside. There was no part of him that did not hurt. Yet the worst of it was his leg: a hellish, relentless throbbing that made him choke back tears and sobs and want to _howl_ for his Alpha. It seared along every nerve, burning them up like flames did oxygen. It was excruciating.   

His vision fought with him for several moments, offering little more than blurred outlines and the constant colour of  _grey-black-too white_ ; it was nauseating and bile clambered up his throat, scratching at the soft flesh as though it had claws and teeth and bad intentions. He felt hungover and still drunk at the same time, a dizzying combination that was no doubt a product of concussion, the harsh arc of his ex's gun and whatever was wrong with his leg. He could feel something cold and tacky on the back of his head and he didn't need his eyes, or his nose, to know it was blood. He was too pained for it to be anything else. 

He shifted slightly, trying to find a comfortable position and the grating sound of metal on metal suddenly focused his senses. He became aware of something cold against the skin of his wrist. "Wha'," he slurred, brow furrowing.  _Handcuffs_ , he realised, horror rising within him. There were  _handcuffs_. He was chained to what looked like an old fashioned radiator, but he couldn't be sure. A quick tug told him that whatever it was was strong enough to hold him. His other hand, however, was free. He pressed the heel of his palm against his eyes, silently urging them to wake up. 

" _William_." The Omega froze instantly, breath catching in his throat as he swivelled to the source of the sound. 

Rafa looked the same as he had done all those years ago. Slightly greyer around the edges, but still the same preening ego-maniac who should have been called Narcissus rather than Raphael. His tanned, olive skin had weathered, worn by his time incarcerated, and the chocolate brown hair looked more grey. His hazel eyes were sharp though, focused and clear of any doubt; his body broader that Will remembered. He had a closely shaven beard, but it had clearly been a day or two since it was maintained.

"Raphael," Will returned, voice as close to flat as he could make it but the pain was making him gasp out the words more than he would like. The man was perched on an upturned crate of some description, leaning forward and watching him intensely. It was nothing short of disturbing. "You know it's rude to stare." He was going to pass out.

"You never minded my attentions, William," he replied without missing a beat, accent too lilting, too foreign after the melody that was Hannibal's voice.

"I think we both know _that's_ not the case," he snarled, anger suddenly welling inside him. It cleared his mind like a drug, flushing out the lingering fog that his concussion and blood loss had brought and dulled the pain for a moment. A sweet, heady moment. Then it all flooded back and he _whimpered_.

"Your leg is broken," Rafa stated, tone indifferent as though he were talking about the weather. "Or fractured at the very least." He stood slowly. "I'd try not to move."

"Why?" he rasped, trembling violently. "You care?"

"Oh course I care, William," he murmured, surging closer with a speed that made Will dizzy all over again. "I wouldn't be willing to _help_ you,  _wait for you_ , if I didn't." 

"What are you talking about?" he spluttered.

Rafa edged away. "I know about the other Alpha, and it hurt to see you betray me Will, it did, but I've decided to forgive you."

He was delusional, Will thought. And he was going to be killed by the lunatic in the abysmal, crumbling remains of what looked like an abandoned mill house, it's dank, stone walls layered with soft green moss and curling branches. Empty wrappers, bottles and needles, as well as the crude graffiti on the walls hinting at the depravity it sometimes housed. The floor was hard, cold concrete - the cheap industrial stuff that held no warmth and was slowly draining Will of what little he had left. It had already lapped up the blood from wherever he was bleeding from, drinking it greedily like a newborn at the breast of their mother. Yet the sleeping-bag in the nearby corner on a ratty, stained mattress and a small, fire-side camping light, told Will that it had been Rafa's home for a while. 

"I thought you were at the stream," Will murmured, almost to himself.

"Oh I was," Rafa replied, gleeful, as though Will had pleased him with his deductions. "But after you emerged from the Compound and sought out that dreadful man, I knew you would find me."

"So you moved before I could," he finished, teeth clenching as another wave of _too-much-make-it-stop_ tormented his sore body.

"I did," the man agreed, dragging the crate closer and sitting again. "You really are as beautiful as you were back then, _bella_."

"You're not my Alpha," Will shot back, eyes fluttering closed in an attempt to limit the sensory overload.

Surprisingly, there was no growl, no snarl or snap, or the backhand across his face that he had expected. "Oh William," the Italian crooned instead, pitying almost. "I know you think that, but you're simply confused. The Doctor doesn't _love_ you Will, he just wants your status. Otherwise he wouldn't be sleeping with the Alana woman still."

A hand wrapped itself around his heart as doubt ploughed through his mind. It vanished a second later. He had _seen_ Hannibal; seen what Will's absence had done to him. The man's encounter with Alana had been his greatest regret - something he was unlikely to repeat. " _Bullshit_ ," he gasped. 

"William," the Alpha chided. "It's okay, I know you're confused. But I can help, I've waited this long for you."

"What are you _talking about_?!" Will hissed. "I mated him, we're bound, or do you not see my neck?"

"An unfortunate thing," the man continued calmly. "But we all know that matings can be reversed." Will's brain short-circuited, because there was no way Rafa could mean what Will thought he meant. "You've seen the trials, my dear. A few hormones here, a chemical response there _e ecco!_ No more mating bond."

Will knew the trials he referred too - they were so highly publicised he could hardly miss them. But they were started for victims of forced or coerced bonding and had barely begun animal testing. It was highly volatile, incredibly dangerous and was targeting specific hormones that Will didn't possess. He wasn't a female Omega, his system was different. A bond couldn't be forced on him - his biology repelling the unwanted connection. He could be assaulted and pupped by force, but never mated. Rafa would be feeding him black-market copies of a drug that wasn't designed for him: biologically or situationally. Because he had  _wanted_ to bond with Hannibal... there was nothing forced about it.

"I know it's dangerous," the man continued, clearly seeing the horror running rampant across his face, "but I believe in you William. I know you'll fight for us."

"You can't," he breathed, suddenly incredibly desperate. The pain in his leg, the soreness in his limbs, it was all slowly melting away as his body became numb and paralysed by fear.

He couldn't lose Hannibal. Not after all they had endured to bring them together. He would not lose his mate the day after he finally accepted his bite. Surely, Will thought, that Fate would not be so cruel as to let such a thing occur.

But his internal panic was interrupted as the man pulled a pot from his pocket, giving it a shake. Will heard the clatter of pills and his breathing picked up, heart hammering against his bruised, cracked ribs. His lungs were screaming, each inhale feeling like they were being ripped in half.  _He couldn't lose Hannibal_. But Rafa was uncaring. He stepped forward and squatted in front of Will, dragging his hair from his eyes and scowling as Will snapped at him in a vain attempt to scare him off. "William, enough" he ordered, but the Omega tried again, desperate and wild. Rafa growled lowly, eyes turning black in anger, but Will pulled back again, baring his teeth in warning. It was then the man pressed down on his broken leg. Hard.

The Omega screamed and blackness consumed him. 

He woke sometime later and his mouth was as dry as sand. Rafa was watching him again, smiling, all traces of the monster who had hurt him seemingly gone. He wanted water, but he wouldn't give the man the satisfaction of asking. "You took them greedily, my _bella_ ," he informed him, shaking the pot. A cold, unrelenting feeling began slowly pressing down on his chest, as though he had been pinned to the floor and stones were being placed upon him, one by one, until his ribs gave out and his chest caved in. He had no idea if what Rafa had said was the truth, but he couldn't take any chances. Who knew just what the Italian had concocted in his attempt to break Will's bond with Hannibal. So the profiler steeled himself and met the curious, almost fond, gaze of his captor, before picking up his free hand and slamming it down on his leg. 

And he vomited the tablets back up.

"Fuck you," Will snarled, fat tears streaming down his face as he tried desperately to regulate his fear and pain. He was howling at it all: anguished by his situation, desperate for his Alpha and blinded by the excruciating feeling tearing his body apart.

Rafa's composure slipped then.

He kicked the crate away and strode towards him, hand immediately going for his throat, nails digging into the fresh mating mark cruelly. He pryed Will's jaw open with such force, the profiler had no doubt that he was bruised, and shook more pills into his mouth.

"We can do this all day, William," Rafa spat, spittle flying as he clamped a hand down over the Omega's mouth. "But it _will_ happened. Maybe you should consider letting happen. It will cause you less pain, _bella_."

"No," Will cried, sobs muffled, as he tried to hold on, but the man only pinched his nose shut and massaged his throat until he swallowed. It burned on the way down and Will's tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

"You can live without your leg, William," Rafa threatened, "and I am more than willing to go above and beyond for you."

"Please stop," Will sobbed, head hanging limply forward, exhausted.

"I am doing what I must to keep you happy, William," he returned, bending over to retrieve the discarded crate and flashing the Omega a glimpse of a gun. Suddenly hope flared in Will's chest. If he could get the weapon, he had a chance. "It is an Alpha's duty after all," the Italian continued. 

"You're insane," Will snarled, voice not strong enough to put too much power into it however. 

"Now, now, William," he chided, before straightening and turning on his heel. "I'll be back with something to help ease the transition. You must be strong for our mating when your bond breaks. It would be unfortunate if you were unconscious for our first time." His footsteps echoed around them, mocking, as he retreated and Will waited until he was forced to strain to hear them before he moved, assessing his limited options.

He couldn't run. There was too much damage to his leg and even if he did escape the place, it was only a matter of time before Rafa hunted him down again. He'd be lucky to reach the door. He doubted he'd be able to fight, either. His chance lay with the gun, or with Hannibal and his brothers finding him.

 _Hannibal,_ he realised, a plan suddenly swimming into his mind. It was crude and had little chance of success, but it was the best he could do.

First though, he thought, sticking two fingers down his throat until he gagged and finding grim satisfaction at the pair of white pills joining the thin, watery vomit already on the ground. It splashed him a little, but Will pushed it to the back of his mind; smelling of sick was the last thing he was concerned about. He looked over at his wrist, still locked in the cuff before gritting his teeth and heaving in three long, deep breaths. Then he reached over with his free hand and snapped his thumb to the side. 

He could taste blood again but the pain was little in comparison to the flare in his leg, as he wriggled his hand free. It took a few minutes to work the metal over the flesh, but he grunted in satisfaction when the empty cuff clanged against the radiator. Will shifted his weight again, knowing that the next part would be all the more agonising. Slowly, and trying hard to hold onto consciousness, he leaned forward and began dragging himself to the nearest window. It was slow, slow progress and every movement made him whine, his voice climbing octaves fast and frequently. It _hurt_. 

It could have been half an hour, or it could have been three, before he stopped, soaked in sweat, shaking violently and panting as though there was no air left, when he reached the window. His skin felt too tight, too small for him, drawn across his bone like the skin of a drum. His shirt was drenched and hanging from his frame, he'd been crying, he knew, and there was a bright, fresh trail of red blood behind him. It almost didn't look real: closer to a low-budget horror movie scene than real life. 

He dug his fingernails into the stone, overjoyed when parts crumbled to make way for his stabbing digits, and _heaved_. Somehow, someway, he managed to get his good leg underneath him and pushed hard because suddenly he was upright, clinging to the wall and the window-frame as the world took a tumble to the side. He shut his eyes and sucked in desperate breaths until it passed, clammy forehead against the stone wall to try and cool himself, but the fevered nausea still simmered under his skin. He slowly cracked open his eyes. 

He had been right about being in an old mill house. He could see the river and the forest beyond it, but Will struggled to see a town. He hoped his plan would yield something. But even if it didn't, he knew it was the only chance he would no doubt get to try and get some help. Steadying himself, he leaned back and put his broken hand through the glass.

His knuckles split on impact, as vibrations rippled up his arm and jarred the only bones that didn't feel as though they had been badly damaged in the car-crash. The window shuddered and gave way beneath him though, and suddenly shards were embedding themselves into his flesh, scratching long, bloody marks down his arm. He leaned forward, getting as close to the edge as he could, trying to let the breeze catch his scent. Hannibal had a good nose, made better by his recent mating. If he was nearby, or even in the right place, he'd know where Will was. He'd be able to track him. He managed to stay upright for another couple of minutes before a wave of dizziness had him stumbling back and slumping to the floor, leg buckling beneath him and he screamed again.

Blackness stole over him.

There was a hand on his face when he woke. Urgent, insistent and he snarled, trying to bat it away. Instead, his fingers were caught and squeezed gently. Will's brow furrowed and his eyes fluttered open.

"Hey," he croaked, delirious. Hannibal looked frantic. The Omega chuckled and tried to smile. "You look like my Alpha," he whispered conspiratorially. "Don't tell Rafa though," he continued, the haze rising as the _pain_ began to make itself known. "He'll drug me again."

"Drug you?" Hannibal's voice was desperate but edged with steel. He was barely holding onto his fury. "Will, I need you to keep your eyes open, love," he said, tone turning official and calm, although even in his state, Will knew his mate was far from calm.

" _Hannibal_?" he asked, squinting slightly, as though unsure the man was really there. 

"Yes, _mylimasis_ ," he whispered, hands fluttering, unsure of which injury to attend to first. "Your brothers are on their way, I just need you to fight a little longer."

"Don't let him give me them," Will choked, tears reappearing and flooding his eyes. The world blurred. "He wants to undo the mating."

"That will never happen," Hannibal said, voice now hard as stone and determined. He was all protective instinct and predator. He turned his head slightly and Will could just about make out the wire in his ear. "Where are you?" he was snarling. "I need an air evac immediately," he continued. "The mill house, upstream."

"Did you smell me?" Will asked, tilting his head and reaching out for his Alpha.

"I did, my dear Will," Hannibal smiled, nodding. "You are truly remarkable." He shifted his weight slightly, tilting away from Will to speak to his brothers but all the Omega could see was the looming figure of Rafa.

"NO!" he screamed, scrabbling futilely at the floor. Hannibal turned as the Italian fired once, twice, three times, before the gun skittered away when Will's Alpha tackled him.

But Will had seen. He had watched as each bullet tore into his mate; watched the blood begin to stain his clothes and spread outwards like paint in water.

Then they were hand to hand, a twisted feral dance of punches and snarling curses. Rafa rolled away, standing and kicking out at the Lithuanian, his nose breaking under the heel of his boot. But the Doctor grabbed the man's foot and yanked, sending him pitching forwards. The gravel crunched beneath him. But they were both moving again. Hannibal, spitting his blood to the floor, ignoring the three holes in his body; Rafa smirking and determined. They clashed again, ripping at each other. Tearing at skin, bone, hair, anything they could reach. Someone yowled but Will couldn't see who. Then Hannibal was advancing. Strong, heavy blows beating at Rafa's arms, teeth covered in blood and ragged tissue. And Will saw the Ripper. He saw the man that had torn through bodies, had cooked the organs of the rude and had staged his victims, elevating them to art. He saw him.

"Hannibal," he cried again as a flash of sliver whipped through the air. The knife embedded itself in Hannibal's thigh and Rafa cried out, victorious, as the Doctor stumbled, falling to his knees.

"He's _mine_ ," the Italian hissed. 

"No," Hannibal croaked, voice wavering, "he's not." Then he surged forward and latched his teeth into the soft part of Rafa's throat before _pulling_ and  _pulling_. 

There was a wet, gurgling sound before the man staggered away, hands flailing and clutching at the open wound _gushing_ blood. He surged forward, uncoordinated and scratching at Hannibal, grabbing hold of the knife in his thigh and _twisting._ Hannibal howled and shoved him away, teeth coming down again to take another bite from the man, although this time it was the soft flesh of his face: a cheek, maybe some of his upper lip, Will wasn't sure. Rafa's hits were slowing, but Hannibal swooped in again, and again, taking more and more from the man's neck until the Italian stumbled, fell and writhed for a moment before finally falling still. It was a vile death, although much kinder than he deserved, but Will's gaze had already gone to Hannibal. His Alpha, who, despite being covered in blood, looked pale and weary. He was swaying slightly on his feet, eyes glassy and unfocused.

"Hannibal?" Will asked anxiously, suddenly aware of how _feeble_ their bond had become. It was straining,  _straining_ to keep itself intact.

"Oh William," he murmured, clearly fighting a battle with unconsciousness, "I do love you so."

Then his eyes rolled backwards into his skull.

And he crumpled to the ground.

And was still.

Too still.

 

Will was still screaming when his brothers arrived eight minutes later.     


	15. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own Hannibal - although I wish I did - so all rights go to NBC and Thomas Harris
> 
> The last chapter. The conclusion. The ending. The - yeah, it's not long, but it was how I envisioned this finishing. 
> 
> Hope you feel the same.

It was too still, too silent in Hannibal's house.

Things were boxed, covered with sheets or packaged to be shipped, and they lined the halls from floor to ceiling. It made Will sad to see the house gutted so viciously; a lifetime spent in the walls demolished by thick, brown packing tape and cardboard. But the life he was to lead now couldn't exist within the palace of homes he currently inhabited. Much like his former house on the flat fields, there was a time where moving on was the best option; the only option really. There was nothing there anymore.

He spent a considerable amount of time moving from room to room, ensuring everything was correctly labelled and effectively protected in preparation of the move. He could see Hannibal's reaction in his mind's eye at his beloved art being torn by oblivious men, unsuccessfully loading them into trucks. His Alpha would have torn out their livers, or something brutal, and Will was sure he would have smiled fondly at such a thing.

Mikey rang at three o'clock, a shrill sound piercing the quiet and startling him slightly. He probably should have expected it, given their conversation the previous evening. He always called Mikey when he had doubts about the decision to leave. "Hello," Will answered softly after a moment of hesitation.

"Will," his brother replied, warm and inviting. "How are you today?"

"Anxious," the man confessed, sitting in the armchair he knew was Hannibal's favourite. "Nervous, sad," he hesitated, "lonely."

"I know. I know it can be," the man murmured, before injecting a sunniness into his tone, "but you're doing the right thing," Michael reassured him. Will hummed in reply, unconvinced. "It's not the right place for you now," he continued.

"I know," Will agreed, a small, vulnerable thing. "It feels like I'm finishing that chapter in my life."

"In a way you are."

"I just don't want to feel like I'm betraying Hannibal," Will whispered, the pit in his stomach opening again. It had been a constant worry when he first proposed leaving behind Baltimore and the house Hannibal had inhabited for many years.

"You're not," Mikey responded warmly. "You know you're not. You have to look forward, not back. Especially after everything. There are some not-very-nice memories associated with that place Will, you deserve better." The former profiler thought back to the first dinner with his Alpha and the unsuccessful kiss that had followed; then Alana, Jack - there had been many things he wanted to forget. "And, well seven months now, right?"

"I know."

They lapsed into silence.

"Don't worry," Michael said and Will could hear his brother's smile. "Once you've moved into the new house, you'll feel much better. And you'll have to come over to the Compound for dinner, okay?"

"Sure," Will said, chuckling softly. "I'm going to go," he continued, "I need a nap."

"Of course," Mikey murmured. "Sleep well Will."  They hung up.

The Omega yawned and clambered the stairs to the master bedroom, smiling at the sight of his dogs already curled up there at various places around the room. His clothes were half-packed, but he hadn't touched Hannibal's suits yet. He couldn't.

He snuggled beneath blankets and shifted until he was comfortable, burrowing down and smiling sleepily when Winston lay across his feet.

He dreamt of Hannibal. 

The smell of cooking saw him shuffle downstairs, curious. The lights in the kitchen were on, and in the oven, roasting in a pan with cloves of garlic and sprigs of something fancy, was a single heart. "Looks good," he yawned again, not turning as he recognised the scent. "Lamb?"

"Pig," came the correction. Will turned, raising an eyebrow at the tone. "Aldric gave Kuno the hearts of those he defeated, yes?"

"And just _who_ have you defeated?"

"The only Omega to give you nightmares," Hannibal replied, teeth poking through his smile. "I thought it fitting for our last dinner within this home." Will huffed, something warm spreading through him.

"I missed you today," he said, the silent _thank you,_ underlining the words. Hannibal never failed to reassure him that he wasn't forcing the man to leave his home.

"And I you. It is truly difficult to part from you, now," the Alpha continued, "especially with the move so close upon us." He was barefoot, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and hair suitably mussed. His jacket and vest hung over the nearby chair. It was oh, so domestic. "Did you sleep well? You looked too peaceful to disturb when I looked in on you." He was looking at Will fondly. The younger man nodded. "You should be sitting nevertheless," he fussed, turning to the fridge for a moment and pulling out something green and far too healthy. A flourish and a spare glass later and: "Here," he offered, sliding the drink across the counter-top.

"Thank you," the Omega smiled, taking a sip and letting out a satisfied hum, feeling contented and loved and _happy_. The pride on his Alpha's face made him laugh, but the slight puff of his chest made him roll his eyes.

"Anything for you, _mylimasis_ ," Hannibal replied gently.

And then the Doctor stepped close to press a kiss to Will's forehead before dropping to his knees and pressing another to the large swell of his mate's middle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all folks. 
> 
> Much, much, much love for all the support you've given me, and the amazy-crazy love for this story. 
> 
> R, out.


End file.
